


Drive

by punkdestiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Asshole Castiel, Blood, F/M, Hate to Love, Hipster Dean, Homophobia, Jock Castiel, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Road Trips, Slow Burn, Swearing, Weekly update
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-05-06 17:39:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 29,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5425892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkdestiel/pseuds/punkdestiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>All we do is drive</i><br/><i>All we do is think about the feelings that we hide</i><br/><i>All we do is sit in silence waiting for a sign</i><br/><i>Sick and full of pride</i><br/><i>All we do is drive</i><br/><br/>Dean and Castiel are forced to go on a road trip together. And even though they hate each other, neither one of them wants to arrive at their destination. Stuck on the road, both boys share secrets that they’d rather leave undiscovered.</p><p>The story about an asshole who learns to let go by a boy trapped in freedom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Trouble of Bearing Silence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Welcome (back) to a new story of mine!  
> The upload schedule will be the same as last time - new chapter every Monday. I'd also really appreciate some feedback on this story just so I know if you like the direction it's headed in etc. It's really helpful and I'd love you a lot, if you'd take the time to write a comment <3

_Dean's POV_

 

"Wow," Castiel said, "You're really a spot on hipster." Dean watched him put his luggage in the trunk.

"Hello to you, too." Dean rolled his eyes. This was going to be a wonderful trip with Mr. Asshole himself on board.

"Do you have some gum?" Since ignoring seemed to be the trend they were going on, Dean did exactly that and got into the car. Why had he agreed to do this? Just because he was in the student council didn't mean he needed to play chauffeur for spoiled kids. Why couldn't his parents drive him to the training camp anyway? Though there was no backing out of it now. And so here Dean was, stuck in a seat and on his way to a football training camp he gave no shits about.

In the rearview mirror, Dean watched Castiel limping to the passenger seat with the crutches at his side. Whatever had happened to his leg, Dean couldn't say he didn't deserve it. — _No!_  He'd told himself he'd stay optimistic. This could be really good. A couple days off school, fast food and the open road… Yeah, that sounded like some utopian future. If dealing with Castiel was the price for that, Dean was happy to pay.

"Okay, let's go," Dean said awkwardly. He had to at least _try_  to get some sort of conversation going, admittedly this wasn't a good start.

Dean started the engine, closing his eyes for a second as it responded with a purr. Man, he loved that sound. He pulled out of the hospital's parking lot and onto the road. He rolled the window down, letting a cool breeze flow through the car. The only thing missing was some music. He pressed the button on his cassette player, while he rested his elbow on the windowsill. Yeah, he could live like this.

"AC/DC? Are you kidding me?" Dean had to stop himself from groaning out loud at Castiel's comment.

"Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake hole."

"If it's gotta be an old band, at least pick Black Sabbath."

"You know Black Sabbath?" Dean threw a surprised glance at him.

"Yeah, who doesn't?"

"I'd say 90 percent of our school doesn't."

"Oh come on, now you're exaggerating. 50 at maximum."

"Well, whatever you say." Dean gave in to avoid a bigger conflict, because honestly, Castiel looked like the kind of guy that would start a heavy discussion over something as ridiculous as that. "Beneath your seat there's a box. A Black Sabbath - tape should be in there somewhere." Castiel hauled the box up and indeed, a couple minutes later he had found it. He took the AC/DC one out of the player and put the other in. Soon Black Sabbath filled the air with heavy drum beats.

"What exactly happened to your foot again?" Dean asked. He couldn't go long without a conversation.

"I twisted it."

"So, your ankle's sprained?"

"Yeah, Grade 2." Dean had no idea what that meant but he wasn't gonna ask. Castiel didn't seem like he wanted to talk much — what a surprise. Instead he got his phone out and pretended Dean didn't exist. Dean sighed quietly and turned the music up just a bit louder.

Soon they drove onto the Interstate Highway 70. Dean had quickly mapped out the trip right before they took off. It shouldn't take more than a couple of days to get to San Francisco and Castiel's coach expected nothing less. But once he had dropped the asshole — majesty, the halfback, off at the camp the rest of team was staying at, he'd relax on the way back. Maybe he'd take a different route, see a bit more of America and the wonders it offered. Dean smiled at the thought.

"I used to play football, you know." Dean cringed at his third attempt at conversation. He sounded like an old man even though he was just a year or two older than Castiel.

"Yeah? Cool." And then with a deep sigh as if it cost him all his energy, he asked, "And why did you stop?"

"I don't know," Dean lied. "School, mostly." He shrugged. Castiel looked up from his phone for the first time and eyed him suspiciously as though he could see right through Dean. But Castiel didn't bother going into it. Instead he turned his head to the window, watching the trees pass by.

"How long have you been playing football?" Dean didn't know why he was still trying.

"About um, 7 years. God, 7 years." Castiel shook his head. "That's a fucking long time," he muttered, more to himself than Dean.

"Well, I've heard you're pretty good."

"Pretty good? I'm outstanding." Dean couldn't tell if he was joking or not, so he stayed quiet.

**\-----**

"We're gonna make a stop in Grainfield, okay?" Dean asked. He needed something to eat and he definitely needed to move his legs.

"Sure," Castiel mumbled. He had stuffed a hoodie between head and shoulder, and seemed to be taking a nap.

Dean took the exit, which he knew would get them in the direction of a diner (according to his google search).

And indeed, a couple of minutes later they parked in front of the "Main Street Dugout". Dean had a smile on his lips just by thinking about the delicious burgers and pies they apparently served.

"We're here." Dean said light-hearted. But Castiel didn't move. Did he really fell asleep? That guy had spent the last day in a hospital, how could he be tired? "Hey, we're here!" Dean's voice grew louder. No reaction. He shoved him. "Wake up, Mr. Asshole."

"Ugh. What?" Castiel blinked at him.

"We're here."

"Where?" Castiel ruffled through his quiff and for just a second Dean was oddly fascinated by the way the strands of hair fell into his face, perfect without any effort put into it.

"Here. At the diner, idiot."

"I've gone from Mr. Asshole to idiot so quickly?"

"No, you're both. An asshole and an idiot." Dean's smile suggested that he didn't mean it but let's be real, that guy was totally both. Dean just had a lot of practice in hiding his thoughts. He got out of the car and Castiel followed him hesitantly, muttering something indecipherable to himself.

The diner itself had a lovely old charm with the carpet ground and wooden chairs and tables, and it smelled fantastically of fried food. Dean's mouth watered just by entering that place. He chose a table in the corner near the window. Castiel sat down opposite of him.

"Welcome to the Main Street Dugout. Do you already know what you want to drink?" asked the waitress with a smile.

"A coke, please," Dean answered.

"Make it two." She nodded and rushed off behind the counter. They sat in awkward silence until she returned with their drinks and took their orders. And they sat in awkward silence when she left.

"So… you wanna become a footballer after school?"

Castiel raised an eyebrow as if he couldn't believe that they'd gotten on this low level of conversation. "No, I'm gonna work in my father's company until he retires and I'm taking over."

"But you're not the oldest in your family, right? Doesn't a family business go to the oldest kid?" Castiel glared at him so coldly, goosebumps rose on Dean's neck.

"It goes to the best."

"And you're of course the best one." Dean couldn't help himself, his voice was dripping with sarcasm. Castiel's eyes narrowed.

"I don't get why everyone likes you."

"Everyone likes me?" Dean chuckled.

"Oh, cut the bullshit. As if you don't know, that you're popular."

"I'm not 'popular'." People talked to him, yes, but he was sure most of them were just pretending. This was high school after all, pretending was learned here. Castiel rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, the conversation clearly over. Gladly, the waitress returned no second later with their burgers.

"A Big Mac?" Dean asked before he could stop himself.

"Is that a crime?" Castiel shot back.

"No, of course not. I just thought that, um, you know, someone with your… body would only eat like salads and stuff." Dean was oddly fascinated by his own burger all of a sudden. And Castiel laughed. And laughed. And laughed. A smile crept onto Dean's face at the sound of it. Something inside of him had just shifted and all he knew was that he wanted to hear his laugh more often. And then it ebbed down to a soft chuckle until it died completely, but the amusement was still audible in his voice as he spoke. "Man, a little bit of fast food isn't gonna harm me."

"Yeah, I know. I was just…" He left the sentence hanging in the air, he didn't know what to respond. Castiel kept looking at him a moment longer before he bit into his burger.

They ate in silence, but this time it was a comfortable one. As Dean got out his money Castiel told him off and instead paid for them both. Maybe that was his way of being nice. Dean left the restaurant with a smile.

Back in the car and on the road Castiel went back to playing on his phone again. Dean didn't mind. His burger had been delicious and the weather was still sunny for a month like October. On days like this life was simple and Dean had always liked simplicity. Not because he was an idiot (although maybe he was, nobody thought of themselves as idiots, right?), but because living was easy, not overshadowed by thoughts full of worry or a million tasks that needed to be done. It was simple.

"You have a charger?" Castiel asked after they had been driving for a while.

"No. How would you charge it anyway?" Dean frowned.

"You know those things you can put in your car and…" Castiel eyes frantically searched over the console before he let out a sigh. "Nevermind." Dean watched him put his phone away and turn towards the window. He was about to say something — anything — until he remembered that Castiel wasn't the most talkative person and focused back on the road.

Surprisingly a couple minutes later Dean witnessed the eight world wonder. "Is this your car?" Castiel asked, startling Dean. He blinked a couple times and glanced over to make sure Castiel was indeed talking to him and not on the phone or whatever.

"I… Yes. My father gave it to me on my 16th birthday." That day he had barely contained his joy, eagerly getting behind the wheel, where he had spent a lot of time ever since. He smiled at the memory.

"It's a nice car, even though it definitely lacks a car charger."

"Was that a compliment?" Dean teased, a grin tugging at the edge of his lips.

"If your standards are that low and you're that easy to charm, sure it was." The entire time Castiel hadn't once removed his gaze from the world passing by.

"I take what I can get."

"You're even more desperate than I thought." But Castiel couldn't hide the little smile playing around his lips from Dean.

"I like to think of myself as easy to please."

"Isn't that the same thing?"

"Whatever." Dean rolled his eyes, but he wasn't really annoyed. If they were talking, maybe the ride wouldn't be so boring.

"It's getting dark. Are we gonna drive through the night or stop at a motel?"

"I'd say we drive 'til Colorado, see what we can find there."

"Sounds good to me. Dude, do we have any food in here? I'm starving." Castiel turned around to look at him and God forbid he was handsome. Dean didn't really pay attention to it before but now that the setting sun was casting a dim light on him and Castiel's face wasn't a mask of arrogance, he was simply breathtaking.

"Uh, yeah. Somewhere on the backseat is a package of cereal bars and water." He gestured toward the back left, behind his seat. Castiel bend over to him, his right arm on the back rest ever so slightly brushing Dean's back. He groaned as he twisted his left arm to grab both, the food and a bottle.

"Got it," Castiel said with a sigh of relief. "You bought the diet version?" He laughed.

"I took whatever we had at home. Be grateful for what you get." Dean smiled, clearly not meaning his words.

"Of course, mum. Thanks, mum." Dean tried to hit him but his ability to aim was limited because he had to leave a hand on the steering wheel and didn't dare to leave his gaze longer than a couple seconds off the road.

"Hey!" Castiel laughed, pressing himself into the door. "You don't hit a cripple."

"Just shut up and give me a granola bar." Despite his teasing, Dean was still grinning.

"As you wish, Sir. Anything else I can do for you? Wipe your ass for example?" Castiel put on his best butler voice, which was still horrible, and it was Dean's turn to laugh.

"Sure, haven't done that in ages."

"Ew, gross." He held a bar out to him. "Just eat, so we both don't have to hear you."

"And how am I supposed to open that?"

"Oh my God, should I chew it for you, too?" Dean opened his mouth to answer but Castiel was faster. "No, don't even answer that. Here you go." He held the bar out again, this time opened.

"Thanks, idiot." Castiel grunted as an answer.

But Dean wasn't able to wipe that smile of his face all the way till they finally reached a motel.


	2. The Joys of Sharing a Room

_Castiel's POV_

 

They ended up sharing a room at the motel. And to say the least, Castiel wasn't exactly thrilled.

"Why didn't we just take one of the other million motels in Aurora?" He dumped his bag on the ground and inspected the little room. The green wall was almost blinding him and the woollen carpet couldn't hide the fact that this was clearly a low budget place. The room was the emblem of bad taste, starting with those grey, wrinkled curtains. Castiel shuddered.

"Because," Dean accentuated, "This one was the cheapest. And it's not that bad." He watched Dean put his stuff beside the bed and lay down on it in one motion.

"I could've paid for it. Money isn't a problem."

"I don't want you paying everything. This has to do for your royal ass." Castiel grunted. At least he could charge his phone now. He wasn't sure he wanted to though. Meg had probably left a message and he just wasn't in the mood to deal with her.

"Alright. Whatever. I'm leaving." He walked for the door but before he could reach it Dean said. "You think that's good for your foot?" Castiel looked at his ankle, the air splint making it twice its usual size. But he didn't care. Nothing could keep him in this room with Dean as a companion. It wasn't that he hated the dude, he just didn't _get_  him. That hipster lived in a completely different world than him. Before Dean could say anything else, he was out of the door. He didn't know where he was going. 

Outside, a mild wind drifted around him. His gaze travelled over the parking lot. A couple was standing in front of car, laughing. Castiel didn't know how anyone could enjoy road-trips. They were a pain in the ass, made of bad food and sore backs.

He contemplated going to the dinner they drove past. It was right behind the motel, so it wouldn't be much walking to get there. But he wasn't sure he could stand more diner food. One burger was enough for the next six months. He'd go to the main street and see where to go from there.

With his hands on his crutches he limped over the parking lot, passing by the laughing couple. His brows furrowing even deeper. This road trip already sucked. He hadn't had big expectations to begin with, the only goal of this being to arrive at the camp as quickly as possible, but this was a new low. His ankle seemed to agree, already protesting in the air splint. But Castiel didn't acknowledged the pain. He continued limping. _Limping_. How did they expect him to do anything when he couldn't even walk 20 meters without a problem? Was he supposed to just watch as someone took his position away? No, he'd fight. He was the halfback and no one else was allowed to even think about the opportunity that presented itself, now that he was unable to play properly. Castiel made a mental note to buy some pain killers. The doc didn't want to give him some because he _needed to take a break whenever the pain became unbearable_. Not Castiel's words. Then what Castiel really needed to do, was get back on his feet again, without crutches.

Several fast food chains were lined up in front of him. One worse than the other. He decided to go for Taco Bell. It was better than another burger with fries.

-

Castiel allowed himself a small sigh as he reached the motel door. Even though he didn't want to admit, the walk had exhausted him. He had found a small, little shop after he had eaten those semi-good tacos, and bought pain killers but the store had been farther away than he remembered. The walk back had cost all of his strength. As he got the key out, he just hoped that Dean was already asleep so he didn't have to deal with him. The last thing he needed was a smartass conversation, although one might argue that Castiel was the smartass. And maybe he was. But he certainly didn't care.

Dean was laying sprawled out on the bed, watching some hospital drama on TV. Wonderful. He audibly shut the door with his left crutch.

"I hope you didn't spill any of that on the bed." Castiel gestured towards the chips in Dean's hands.

"Not used to sleeping in crumbs, majesty?"

"Sorry, but unlike you I don't like to live in a pigpen." It was a low shot, even for him.

"Don't worry, I made sure no dust-corn even touches those sheets. But then, I think there're way worse things on here than dust or crumbs." Castiel wrinkeled his nose at the invisible stains that were most likely on the sheets. He shuddered as if shaking the thought off.

He let himself fall down the bed, careful not to strain his ankle.

"You into that kind of stuff?" He motioned towards the TV.

Dean shrugged, not removing his eyes from the screen. "It’s pretty good, once you get into it." Castiel doubted it.

"If you say so." He pulled the pill bottle out of his jacket and propped two into his mouth without even thinking about it.

"Does it hurt a lot?" Dean asked, his face twitching in some weird manor that had Castiel guessing he regretted asking. The sarcastic remark died on his tongue.

"Yeah, but it’s nothing I couldn’t handle."

"Of course." Dean smirked. "Is there anything you can’t handle?" His voice indicating that he didn’t want an answer and Castiel wasn’t going to give him one. His mind already drifting to other  places. Thoughts rapidly flashing up, chasing each other; Meg, his father, school, college – oh God, college. He let himself sink further into the pillow.

"You want some?" Dean held the chips up.

"Nah, I’m good." He closed his eyes and tried to forget about his surroundings, not sleeping just forgetting.

"Where did you eat?"

"Geez, do you never shut up?" Castiel nearly shouted. But he regretted it as soon as he saw Dean’s eyes. Those green eyes… full of hurt. "Ugh, I didn’t mean it. It’s-"

"It’s okay. You don’t need to explain." Dean shook his head and focused his gaze back on the TV again. Castiel run his hands through his hair. If he could just forget. His eyes travelled to the pills on his nightstand. The temptation grew bigger with every breath. -No! He couldn’t. The pain was gone. He couldn’t let some pathetic thoughts ruin everything. He stood back up and went into the bathroom, locking the door.

The mirror was small but it couldn’t hide the truth. Cold water splashed in his face before his mind even realized what his hands were doing. He let the coldness soak into his skin. And he imagined capturing it. It froze everything. It was welcome. A couple of breaths later and Castiel flushed the toilet, washed his hands again and went back out. His head held up high.

 

Castiel listened to Dean’s breath even out. It had taken him another episode and a half of "Grey’s Anatomy" (as Castiel had learned,) to fall asleep. But now Castiel had to admit, he was hooked. He needed to see if that red-haired chick would really marry the ambulance man. Because apparently she had something going on with some rich, black dude, who according to Dean was still in love with her. And from the 70 minutes Castiel had seen, they had way more chemistry than her and her stupid fiancé.

Castiel shook his head. This was what he had lowered himself to. Watching a hospital drama in a run down motel in the middle of the night. _Now_  he had a reason to feel pathetic. If his father could see him like this…

Oh… the black dude was standing up in church! And a cheesy "I love you" later, he was running out the door with the girl at his side. Castiel couldn't help a faint smile as he turned the TV off. But it quickly faded as he remembered what he had been avoiding by watching this crap with Dean. _His phone._

Castiel turned to the nightstand, where he had left it to charge. Messages flooded his lock-screen.

 _Ash @ "it's football b'tch": pls s/o bring vodka_  Castiel scrolled further down. _Gabriel @ "it's football b'tch": Guess who had the two Gallagher girls yesterday ;)_  Castiel rolled his eyes and finally came to the messages he had expected. _Meg: fine. i can play this game as well._  He opened the chat in order to be able to read her messages chronologically. 13 in total.

3:48 pm _sucks_

3:56 pm _hurry up_

_tell that ass if he doesn't drive faster im gonna make his life hell_

4:18 pm _im dying_

_jess isnt letting me go_

4:24 pm _some day im gonna shut her up_

5:45 pm _where u at?_

6:17 pm _cas?_

_come the fuck back_

_ugh_

_i h8 u so much_

_u dont even know_

6:55 pm _fine. i can play this game as well._

Castiel rolled his eyes and started typing his response.

11:23 pm _Sorry, we just arrived at the motel. That dude doesn't have a charger in his car. He uses_ music tapes

That'd do. Now he could go to bed with one worry less.

\-----

"Wake up!" Someone shoved him. Castiel groaned in response.

"What time is it?" He mumbled into his pillow.

"10 am. Time to get up," Dean answered. Castiel groaned again.

"Come on, princess. I don't wanna drag your royal ass to the car." And then he said the only thing that beheld the power to get Castiel to move. "I bought food." Warily Castiel opened his eyes to fine slits. He saw Dean but no food. "Where is it?"

"In the car. So get up and we can leave." Castiel reluctantly obeyed. He grabbed his pants and a new t-shirt, before he disappeared into the bathroom.

 

A couple minutes later, Castiel was somewhat awake thanks to the cold water. He hadn't bothered with a shower, too much work with his ankle. He'd have to deal with that this evening or tomorrow. Preferably tomorrow.

"I already put your stuff in the car. I hope that's okay." Dean eyed him warily as if he expected him to trip. To be honest, walking with crutches when you're also carrying a t-shirt and a toothbrush, can be quite tricky. But he wasn't an idiot.

"Sure, I need to put this away as well, though." He grabbed the last of his belongings and together they left the motel room. Dean was fiddling nervously beside him. Maybe it hadn't been vigilance that Dean had regarded him with before.

"You okay, Winchester?"

"Yeah, sure. I've um, I've parked over there." Castiel nodded. The Impala wasn't hard to notice between all the modern cars around it. Again, he wasn't an idiot. But he didn't bother to comment.

"What food did you buy?" Castiel asked, remembering Dean's earlier statement.

"I got a "Bacon, egg and cheese Biscuit". If you don't like that, I also have a "Sausage McMuffin with egg". Gotta get those proteins." Dean emphasized the last sentence. Castiel chuckled in response.

"Thanks, mum." He threw a sarcastic glance at Dean. His eyes lifted to Dean's hair. "You've showered already?"

"And I went out for a run. And I bought food." Castiel whistled. "I'm impressed."

"Another compliment?" Castiel only rolled his eyes at the response, at lack of words so early in the morning.

 

They had been barely driving before Dean pulled the car to a stop again. Confused, Castiel looked up from his phone (3 new messages from Meg). But then, he saw the white sign in front of the house.

"You can't be serious."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and stuff are as always highly appreciated and would make me really, really happy :p


	3. The Wonders of Nature

_Dean's POV_

 

Dean smiled at the promises that the sign in front of them held. "Rocky Mountain Arsenal - National Wildlife Refuge" It felt like a promised escape. An hour of gravel roads and no responsibilities.

"Since we're already here, we've gotta take this opportunity. Because tell me, when did you ever plan to visit a wildlife refuge?" Dean chuckled at the look of horror in Castiel's face.

"Never. And I'd like for it to stay that way." Dean ignored the last part.

"Exactly, so we can't not do this, especially when we're already in the area."

"Dude, you know we're supposed to arrive in San Francisco as soon as possible? Pretty sure they don't want us to go get in touch with mother nature."

"As if you care about rules. And it won't take long. The driving route only takes 30 minutes to an hour."

"And how do you want to pay for this?" Dean could sense Castiel getting desperate now, but there was no backing out of this. He had already planned everything yesterday, while Castiel was out eating.

"That's the best part, it's free. Now come on, we need to get a map that'll guide us through here." He heard Castiel mumble something under his breath but he followed him out of the car nevertheless.

"By the way, who did Kepner choose?"

"Huh?" Castiel furrowed his eyebrows.

"Grey's anatomy, the girl with the red hair. Who did she choose?" They stopped in front of the kiosk, which was basically just an information booth with a couple of signs.

"I don't know, I didn't really pay attention to it." Castiel shrugged but didn't meet Dean's gaze when he looked at him.

"Come on, you were so into it. I saw you biting your nails at some point because that patient nearly died." Dean nudged him with his elbow.

"I wasn't!"

"Don't even try to deny it. You were super into it." Dean stated matter-of-factly. "Just tell me who she chose."

"Okay, okay. She chose that rich dude."

"Avery? The one with the incredible green eyes?"

"Yeah, I think that's his name. He stood up in church and then they run away together." Dean internally cursed himself for missing that. It sounded like the cutest thing ever.

"You did pay attention to it then." Dean grinned at him.

"Oh, shut up. We've got the map, let's go." Castiel limped back to the car, Dean closed in on him.

He expected Castiel to drown in his phone again as soon as he started the motor, but to his surprise Castiel unfolded the map and orientated himself.

"We're here," He pointed to an 'i' that was denoted with "Start of Wildlife Drive". "Okay, so we just have to follow the road for the start." His eyes skimmed to the bottom. "We should see mule deer, bison, prairie dogs, rabbits and hawks."

"Sounds good."

"Well, I can't see anything."

"We just started! Be patient."

"Ugh."

Patience turned out to be the key of this trip. A couple of minutes had passed and they hadn't seen a single animal. But Dean didn't mind. These roads and rock music did wonders. He hadn't felt so happy in a while. Apart from another car every once in a while they didn't see anybody else. It was heaven. No matter which side he turned to, the only thing he could see was land. No tall buildings or ordinary streets lined beside each other, just pure nature.

"Dean, look!" Castiel pointed out of his window. A couple feet away stood a deer, its gaze towards them. But Dean was more taken aback by the way Castiel had said his name. And how it made his stomach flutter.

"You wanna stop?"

"No keep driving, I don't wanna scare it." He didn't tell Castiel that these animals were probably used to cars because the fact that he even cared distracted him too much. Castiel turned away from the window as they left the deer behind.

"Okay, maybe this isn't so bad." Dean opened his mouth for a response but he was cut off before he could say anything. "Don't you dare say 'I told you so'." And the glare Castiel sent his way was scary enough for Dean to close his mouth again.

 

"Let's park here and have a look at the lake."

"We're going to stop, even if I complain, right?" Castiel asked.

"Yes." Dean smiled and turned off the engine.

"Thought so." Castiel got out of the car, Dean standing right beside him a second later. "Are you always this stubborn?"

"If it annoys you." Castiel rolled his eyes at Dean's sarcastic response.

"I can't even walk on that." Castiel pointed a crutch towards the dirt path littered with tiny stones and other death traps.

"I've got you if you trip." Dean took the opportunity to scoot a little closer to Castiel. Their arms ever so softly brushing against each other.

Castiel huffed. "Sorry if I don't trust you to catch me."

"You don't trust me?" Dean put a hand over his heart, pretending to be deeply distressed. "But your majesty I've always been here for you." Castiel groaned.

"Will you ever stop with that stupid thing?" And before Dean could answer he added, "Forget it, I know the answer." Dean smiled. The conversation was flowing so much easier than just a day ago. And by now he had to admit that Castiel was pretty alright even though he could be a little diva now and then. Okay, maybe more diva than not, but Dean was getting used to it.

They had gotten to the dirt path by now and Dean threw glances at Castiel every two seconds to make sure he was still on his feet. The coach probably wouldn't appreciate a broken ankle or worse.

"Could you stop looking at me like that? I'm not gonna fall for God's sake." As if to prove it, Castiel limped faster.

"Then don't hold me responsible, if you do fall. I bet your coach wouldn't be impressed."

"Since when is anything I do your responsibility?" Castiel shot back.

"The moment you got into my car. Because I'm the idiot who has to take your royal ass across the country." Dean took his earlier thoughts back. Castiel wasn't alright nor had Dean gotten used to him.

"Well, maybe you shouldn't have dragged my royal ass into a fucking death trap!"

"If you really hate it this much, you could have just stayed in the car." Dean shrugged. They had reached the edge of the sea. It was a stunning view. Green stretched all around the water, the only sign of civilization were a couple power poles in the distance. Apart from the floating boardwalk that got you to the other side. It seemed fun but Dean wasn't in the mood for going any further. He sat down on a patch of land, staring out on the sea.

"I don't hate it." Castiel's voice was soft as he sat down beside Dean.

"It's okay. You don't need to pretend."

"I'm not. I actually, I actually enjoy this," Castiel said sincerely. "I mean, I don't know if it's worth arriving later for but…" He added in a lighter tone.

"Did you have to ruin the moment?"

"We were having a moment? Sorry, I couldn't tell because you're staring at the sea like you wish to be anywhere but here."

"Maybe if you weren't such a dick I didn't need to wish for things like that."

"So you really wish to be somewhere else? Did you hear that? I think you just broke my heart." A quick glance at Castiel revealed more seriousness in his eyes than this lighthearted conversation let on. Dean didn't need to think about his answer.

"No. Here's a good place to be."

"Yeah, I think so, too."

 

They left the lake a couple minutes later. After all they were on a schedule as much as Dean wanted to pretend it didn't exist.

"Okay, so we need to watch out for — hell that's a lot — white-tailed deer, mule deer, waterfowl, shorebirds, song birds and wintering bald eagles."

"I have no idea how half of these animals even look."

"Guess we'll find out," Castiel said, nose already pressed against the window. Dean laughed silently at Castiel's excitement. Who would have thought that he'd get enthusiastic over birds.

And because Dean didn't want the conversation to die down he scraped his mind for a topic. "I loved going to the zoo when I was little. My mum used to take me and my brother there whenever a special day came around. I remember one time we went on my birthday, it was one of the best god damn birthdays in my life."

"I don't like the zoo. Never did, to be honest."

"Why?"

Castiel shrugged, leaving an awkward silence before quietly adding, "I don't think animals are meant for cages."

"But doesn't it preserve some races because they're heading for extinction?"

"Aren't they heading for extinction because we ripped them out of their natural habitat in the first place?" Dean had nothing to say to that. He had never spend much time thinking about a subject like this. Maybe he should have. But he was interested in hearing Castiel's opinion on this.

"So should we just release them?"

"Jesus Christ, are you an idiot?" Castiel turned to look at him in disbelief. "Releasing them would kill them immediately. A lion who gets his prey every day on a silver plate cannot hunt or defend his territory or even conquer any territory at all."

"What else then?"

"I don't know, I'm not expert." Dean scoffed but Castiel just ignored him. "Maybe help them develop the skills they'd need in nature and once they have those, release them and keep watching them until they've adapted to the new environment." Dean was spared from an answer because no second later Castiel was squealing in excitement. "Look, there's a deer!"

 

"We need to turn here and drive the whole way back. But the end is a bit different, so you can drive straight through basically," Castiel explained, studying the map.

"Alright." Dean did as he was told. Fifteen minutes until they were back on the road again. Fifteen minutes until they were heading back to responsibilities. Dean wished he could drive slower, but anything slower than the maximum speed would be standing. He sighed silently. Gabriel had told him yesterday that the coach had made sure Dean was getting a room too, so he could spend the week with them. Which meant, there wasn't going to be a fun road-trip back. No, what he had gotten was a week in hell with a homophobic coach. And they all treated it like a reward. Not only would he be behind in all his classes when he came back, it wouldn't even be worth it. Dean didn't see the reward in that.

"Where are we headed next?" Castiel asked as they left the refuge behind.

"Rawlins. That's about three till four hours depending on traffic." And a numb feeling spread out in Dean's stomach at the sound of it. They were one step closer to hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you have anything to say about this chapter or the story? Anything? Cool. Leave it in the comments :p


	4. The Thing about Potential

 Castiel's POV

 

They didn't sit in comfortable silence for long. Dean Winchester, self proclaimed entertainer, kept hurrying to their rescue, which Castiel thought was totally unnecessary.

"Your sister is a cheerleader, right?"

"Yeah, why?" Castiel quickly added, "Please don't tell me you had something with Anna." The idea of someone sleeping with his sister was disgusting even though she was older than him.

"No, she's not my type." Castiel eyed him, trying to place the undertone in Dean's voice.

"Yeah, nice guys aren't her type either. She'd probably skin you alive." Which was another reason why his relationship with her was pretty good in comparison to other family members, she had always known how to take care of herself.

Dean chuckled. "I can imagine her doing something like that. We did a project for science class once and she dragged my ass to the library on a Saturday morning. She wouldn't settle on anything less than perfect."

"Oh, right. She's in your grade." Castiel knew Dean was older but he hadn't made the connection. "I assume you got the A+?"

"Yeah, thanks to a whole weekend in the library. But you're all like that, aren't you?"

"Like what?"

"Ambitious. Not settling for anything lower than an A. Tons of extracurricular activities."

"Why should I settle for anything less than I know I can reach? That would be wasted potential." He didn't mention the weight on his shoulders, the pressure, the break-downs. He didn't mention his father. His life was nobody else’s business.

Dean grinned. "And we all know you have loads of potential." Castiel narrowed his eyebrows. He was white, from a well-off family and at the start of a career as manager of one of the most influential companies in Kansas. Of course he had potential. But he didn't want to get into any of that.

"As if you have any worse grades."

"I have some Bs." Dean shrugged.

"Oh please. Don't try to be humble, doesn't suit you."

"Okay, maybe my average is an A, so what?" A defensive undertone had crept into Dean's voice but his eyes stayed fixed on the road.

"You're ambitious, too." Dean shook his head, not answering. Castiel's phone buzzed and since this conversation was clearly over, he emerged himself into the business of " _it's football b'tches_ ".

 -

"Where are we gonna eat?" Castiel asked, chewing on one of the granola bars.

"I'd go for burgers again but feel free to search for something else."

"Will do." Castiel opened Google on his phone and seconds later his screen was lit up with dozens of places all nearby the Interstate.

"What's your favorite food?"

"Seriously, Winchester? Wanna know my favorite color, too?"

"Sure," he replied sarcastically.

"Fuck you."

"No, tell me." Dean's eyes kept flicking towards his own, studying him with a curious expression.

"Sushi or a good burger, not those cheap ones you get everywhere but one with actually good meat."

Dean laughed. It was a soft laugh, one that made you smile along with it even though you had no reason to. One that you wanted to keep in a bottle and bring out on sad days. One that made you fall in love… with the idea of being alive.

"What?" Castiel asked, trying to wipe that stupid grin from his face.

"That's such a you thing to say."

Castiel didn't understand. "It's just my favorite food?"

"Yeah, but you're so damn picky about it. Only the best for his majesty." Dean grinned at him but Castiel could only groan. He'd never stop. This nickname was linked to him now, once and forever.

"You're so annoying, I swear." He shook his head and went back to searching for a semi-good restaurant because God knows semi-good was all he'd get.

"There's nothing good around, but" Castiel paused for dramatic effect. "There's a Thai Cuisine about 30 miles into the city."

"30 miles? You know that's about 30 minutes, right?"

"I think we can deal with a little bit delay in exchange for actually good food." Even though Castiel had his doubts about the 'good' part.

"Okay, if you want to." Dean shrugged, completely indifferent as to when they'd arrive.

"How come you don't give a shit about our schedule?"

"Maybe because I'm not the one training? And you can't do much training with that foot anyway, so why hurry?"

"You could get in trouble."

"I won't." There was no doubt in his voice.

"How can you be so sure? The coach can be a real ass."

"A real ass who wants me back on the team apparently," Dean said quietly. Castiel's eyes nearly popped out of his head.

"What?"

"He wants me to stay at your stupid camp. If that's not a desperate try to get me join the team again, I don't know what is."

"But we're good. We don't need someone else." Castiel was more speaking to himself than Dean, trying to figure out why the coach would do something like that. Especially since Dean is soon to graduate. There's no reason to rearrange the whole team, just to undo it half a year later.

"I'm not thinking about it anyway." His words were bitter.

"Why did you quit in the first place?" Remembering his answer from a day ago, he added, "The real reason this time."

"I've told you. School got too busy, I couldn't handle all my extracurricular activities so I quit."

Castiel scoffed. "And I told you to give me the real reason. Did I fucking stutter?"

"Just shut up and tell me where I need to drive to get to your stupid Thai restaurant." Castiel eyed him a moment longer before he went back to his phone, giving Dean the directions.

 

After they had both ordered their food, an awkward silence spread out between them. Or maybe it was just Castiel’s weird mind interpreting it as awkward. Either way he didn’t care too much about it. But apparently Dean did.

"I don’t think I’ve ever eaten Thai food."

"It’s delicious," Castiel answered without looking up from his phone. 24 percent battery left. He cursed himself for being so careless. They were gonna drive at least for another four hours before stopping at a motel (just the thought of these cheap beds made him shiver in disgust). Reluctantly, he turned his phone on airplane mode and put it in his pocket.

"The restaurant had good reviews, nearly five stars, so I assume it’s good." Castiel tried to pick up the conversation again. Luckily, Dean flew at the opportunity.

"Yeah, it smells awesome."

"Do you have any siblings?" He asked, thinking back to their talk earlier.

"A younger brother, Sam. I’d say he’s as ambitious and smart as one of your family." Dean’s proud smile didn’t escape Castiel’s notice. But being like his family was nothing to be proud of.

"I didn’t doubt it." Dean didn’t have time to respond because their food arrived, served by a smiling waiter. Just the sight of it made Castiel’s mouth water.

And the food kept its promises. The yellow curry was fantastic. Most likely the best thing he’d get on this roadtrip. As he looked up from his food he saw Dean smiling.

"What?" He wiped over his chin in case anything had gotten on it. But there was nothing. And on his clothes was no stain either, as a quick glance told him.

"You want mine too?" Dean pointed to his sesame chicken.

"You don’t like it?"

Dean scrunched his face and whispered, "I hate it." Castiel laughed.

"Sure. You wanna stop at some drive in later?" Dean’s eyes widened in surprise.

"But that’s gonna take us back even more." Castiel only shrugged as an answer. To be honest, he didn’t want to rush anymore. The damage was done. The coach was training Lucifer now to take his position. And they didn’t call him that without reason. That guy was truly the devil. Castiel had no chance of getting his position back as long as he was injured.

He could feel Dean’s gaze on him but he pretended to be too focused on his food to notice. It didn’t help. "What changed?"

"Why did you quit football?" He shot back. They didn’t talk after that.

 -

"You want anything?" Dean asked as he pulled into the drive in of some fast-food chain.

"Nah, I’m fine." Castiel was back on his phone again. So much about saving battery.

A couple minutes later, the smell of fried food filled the air. They had stopped on the parking lot so Dean could eat.

"He’s a homophobe," Dean said. Castiel looked at him, head tilted, waiting for an explanation.

"The coach. He kicked a guy out of the team because he was gay." He had heard rumors about it, but he had spend as much attention to them as he spend to any rumors — none.

"You?"

"No, I went on my own account." Dean avoided his gaze. There was more. But Castiel wasn’t gonna push it. And neither did he ask why Dean came back to it now. Did he want his question answered as well? Castiel didn’t answer.

"You’re not gonna ask me?" Dean added after a couple seconds of silence.

"Ask you what?"

"If I’m gay," Dean said in a strong voice.

"Does it matter?"

"No, I suppose it doesn’t." But Castiel couldn’t quite shake the feeling that it did.

 -

The screen went black. His battery was officially dead. And they had only been back on the road for half an hour. Castiel sighed.

"Wanna play a game?" Castiel asked. All emotion vanished from Dean’s face as he looked at the boy beside him.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes." Castiel said determined.

"What are we? Ten?"

"Bored."

"Okay, what game do you have in mind?"

"How about, Who am I?" Castiel suggested.

"Alright, but you start guessing."

Castiel nodded and started. "Are you a real person?"

The game went on and on, and after what felt like forever Castiel still hadn’t figured out the answer. He knew Dean was a fictional, black guy, who inherited a lot of money.

"I have no idea! Just tell me," he begged. Dean had refused to give him the answer because it had been his idea to play this game in the first place.

"Come on, it’s not that hard. I have beautiful green eyes…"

"You or the character?" Castiel asked before he could help himself. Dean shot him a quick glance, eyes wide.

"The character, idiot." The insult couldn’t cover the light stumble in Dean’s voice. Nor the soft blush spreading out on his cheeks.

"Ugh, you think that’s helping?"

"It’s Avery."

"Oh yes, of course. Avery. How could I not think of him?" Castiel’s voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"The man from Grey’s Anatomy!"

"How am I supposed to remember all their names after watching a couple of episodes?" Castiel didn’t even need to look at Dean to know he was rolling his eyes.

___

"Was about time, my back is killing me." Castiel said as they pulled into yet another parking lot in front of yet another motel.

"You’re exaggerating."

"You notice this only now?"

"Just shut up or you can carry your bag up the stairs alone," Dean threatened.

"That’s not fair. I’m incapacitated."

"And I had to listen to your whining the last 20 minutes. Who has it worse?" Dean shot back.

"Okay, fine. I’ll shut up. Please carry my bag though." Castiel hated how pleading his voice sounded but there was no way he’d get it up the stairs alone.

"Everything for you, my majesty. Should I remove the crust from your bread as well?" Dean asked over his shoulder, already on his way into the motel. Castiel couldn’t suppress a groan. This dude would never stop. And a really, really small part of Castiel thanked him for that. It was really small, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any feedback would be cool. It's the 4th chapter guys. You must have some thoughts on this, right? ...


	5. The Weight of Everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is kind of short, I was sick all weekend :/  
> Also, there's some angst in this and mentions of blood. Just fyi, if you're triggered by this. (Don't worry tho, the overall feel of this story will remain like it has been in the other chapters!)

_Dean's POV_

 

The good part about sleeping in a motel, which looked like it could fall apart at any moment, was that no one else wanted to sleep there. As a result, Dean didn’t need to share a room with Castiel. The bad part about sleeping in said motel was that you literally had the feeling it could fall apart at any moment. And it took a lot of persuasive talk on Dean’s site to get Castiel to even move a foot into the building. Now he only needed to convince himself that sleeping in separate rooms was better than hearing Castiel’s complains the whole evening. Somehow he didn’t entirely succeed.

Before he died of boredom, Dean turned the TV on some random channel. A quick glance at his phone revealed the newest school material Charlie had sent him, but he couldn’t be bothered going through it. Apart from her texts, Sam was the only one who had messaged him. Dean typed a quick reply, put his phone on the nightstand and focused back on the TV. He exhaled a deep breath, relaxing after a long day. The only thing missing was some food. Maybe the vending machine in the entrance hall had something good to offer.

Dean stood up from the bed, which groaned underneath him, and walked out the door. He quickened his pace as he remembered that Grey’s Anatomy would start soon. A light smile on his face just by thinking about Kepner and Avery, and how their friends would react. Even the contents of the vending machine couldn’t bring him down. He hadn’t know so much dust could even get into closed spaces. So, his options were food poisoning or the one granola bar Castiel had left him (He was so generous, wasn’t he?).

He wasn’t sure if the granola bar in his pocket could replace a meal but he wasn’t going back yet again. As he jumped up the stairs to his room, he heard a crash. Followed by a scream. Dean stopped dead in his tracks, before picking up speed. The sound came from Castiel’s room. Dean’s mind raced through scenarios, Castiel being robbed, kidnapped, murdered…

Dean burst through the door, not bothering to knock, and stopped yet again. Castiel wasn’t in his room. _Where was he?_  Dean’s eyes drifted to an abandoned crutch on the ground. He had to be here. _Where was he?_  The bathroom. Of course! Dean rushed to the door, crashing against it as he tried to open it and walk through it at the same time.

"Cas? Open up! Are you alright?"

"I’m fine." But his voice told a different story. The words were strained, choppy.

"Open the door!"

"I’m fine. You can go." Like hell he’d go now.

"Open the fucking door! Or I swear I’ll break in!" Castiel didn’t answer. "I’m saying this one last time. Open. The. Fucking. Door." A couple seconds passed before Dean heard someone scrambling and the door-lock clicked.

"Can I…" Dean cleared his throat, suddenly hesitant. "Can I come in?"

"Sure," Castiel whispered. Carefully, Dean opened the door. The first thing he saw was the blood. The shattered mirror, its pieces all over the ground. A broken mosaic. But as he opened the door wider, his gaze fell on Castiel, leaning against the bathtub. His eyes closed, a bleeding hand in his lap.

"Oh my God, Cas. What hap…" The question died on his lips as Castiel looked up. Dean rushed to him, the glass crunching beneath his feet. He kneeled down beside Castiel.

"Let me see your hand." The boy didn’t even argue and did as he was told. Most of the blood came from his palm, a cut drawing a messy line on it. And his knuckles didn’t look too good either.

"I don’t think it needs to be stitched. But we should probably clean it, so it doesn’t get infected." Dean had done a first aid course a year ago. He never thought it’d actually come to use. And he wished it didn’t.

"It’s fine," Castiel whispered, eyes on the ground.

"It’s not fine! You’re bleeding."

"It happens. No need to worry. I’ll clean everything up later." Castiel motioned to the mirror pieces on the ground.

"You’re not gonna clean up anything. I’ll do it. But first, your hand. Wait here, okay?"

"As if I can go anywhere." Castiel’s laugh was dry as he pointed to his foot. Dean nodded, beginning his search for alcohol. But a short glance around the room told him there was nothing to be found. He could go down to the reception and ask if they had anything but he didn’t want to leave Castiel alone. Water would have to do then.

"Can you turn around, so that your hand is over the bathtub?"

"It’s just a cut. Don’t make a big deal out of it." Nevertheless, Castiel obeyed.

"Maybe I could, if you told me what happened," Dean snapped. He sat down at the edge of the bathtub, turning the water on and searching for a mild temperature.

Castiel didn’t answer. They sat in silence as Dean carefully cleaned the cut. He tried not to think about the blood behind him or what caused Castiel to do something like that. Because the last thing he had expected from a diva like him was to break down in a motel room.

"I’ll see if I can find a plaster or something in the car," Dean said. Castiel only nodded, eyes closed. Dean didn’t look at the shattered pieces on the ground as he sprinted to the Impala as fast as he could. It merely took him a couple seconds to retrieve the first aid kid he had put in the trunk ages ago. Without even looking into it, he ran back inside the building.

Again, he sat down beside Castiel, the first aid kid on his lap as he rummaged through its contents.

"Thank you," Castiel whispered. "I know you don’t need to do this, so thank you."

"Oh please, your coach would kill me, if I bring you back with so much as a scratch." Dean smiled, unwrapping a plaster.

Castiel laughed softly. "No, I mean it." And as Dean met his eyes, he knew he did. The gratitude was undeniable. Dean focused back on his hand, while he applied the plaster over the cut.

"Sometimes it just gets too much, you know," Castiel said, barely audible. "Everything crashes down and there’s nothing I can do." There was nothing Dean could say, so he stayed quiet. As the silence spread out, he stood up and started collecting the mirror pieces.

"You don’t have to do that." The glare Dean gave him was enough to quiet him.

"Okay, let’s get you back in your room," Dean said, as the bath looked somewhat presentable again and not like someone just got murdered.

Castiel scoffed. "I’m not an old man. I can walk on my own."

Dean crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. No way he could walk with one crutch and the cut in his hand. Castiel managed to stand up steadily and walk a step but Dean saw the slight quiver in his arm and was immediately at his side.

"I’m not letting you break that ankle," Dean said. And as no response came, he took it as agreement.

 

Later that evening they found themselves sitting on Castiel’s bed, watching Grey’s Anatomy. But Dean couldn’t quite focus on the show because his eyes kept darting to the shattered mirror, which he could see perfectly from the bed. His mind kept wandering to what Castiel had said.

"Why do you keep doing so much stuff, if it’s weighing you down?" Dean asked, assuming with ‘everything‘ Castiel meant all his extracurricular activities.

Castiel shrugged. "I don’t know. Would you stop being on the student council?"

"That’s different." Although there had been times in the past where it had been a weight, he liked helping people too much to quit.

"Is it really?" Castiel turned his head towards him.

"Yes! I’m not doing this so much for me…" He broke off as he realized that he sounded like a saint. Which was most definitely not what he was.

"I’m not either." Castiel focused back on the TV, the conversation over. "See, we’re not all that different."


	6. The Vessel of your Mind

_Castiel's POV_

 

A knee smashed in his back. Castiel’s eyes snapped open and he turned around. Dean was sleeping beside him. Had he spend the night here? Castiel shook his head, trying to wake up properly. A quick glance at his phone told him it was about 12 pm. He shut his eyes again, wanting just a couple more minutes of sleep. 12 pm. His eyes snapped open yet again. 12 pm! They had planned to start at 9 am today, so they’d arrive at the camp in the evening.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Castiel mumbled, as he stumbled out of bed. His good leg wrapped up in the blanket, which he frantically tried to shake off, using one crutch to hold the fabric down.

"Dean! Wake up!" He threw the blanket at his head.

"Why are you screaming?" Dean watched him through squinted eyes. But Castiel was too busy searching for an acceptable smelling shirt to appreciate how sexy that looked.

"Because it’s noon! Didn’t you set an alarm?" He declared a basic white shirt clean enough for a day in the car. Yesterday’s pants would do too.

"Yeah, but my phone is in my room." Dean was slowly getting up now, too.

"Why did you sleep here anyway?" Castiel stopped moving around to look at him.

"I don’t know. I must have fallen asleep accidentally." Dean stood up. "I’ll just get my stuff, alright?"

"Yeah, of course." Castiel was slightly irritated by Dean even asking such nonsense. But when was he not?

Dean’s glance stayed just a second too long on Castiel. He shifted awkwardly with his crutches, trying to pick up a shirt from the ground. Dean was faster.

"Just don’t do anything stupid," Dean said. Castiel rolled his eyes, snatching the shirt from Dean’s hands and putting it in his bag. He heard the door close as he entered the bathroom. An empty mirror was staring at him. Last night’s events crashed back into his mind. Oh, that was what Dean had referred to. It wouldn’t happen again. It couldn’t happen again. If anyone knew about this, it’d ruin him. Goodbye, football. Goodbye, Dad’s company. Goodbye, life. No, he had worked too hard to throw it all away now.

As he scrambled his things together, he made a decision. He would talk to Dean, make sure he’d stay quiet.

 

"How about we get something to eat first?" Dean asked, maneuvering the car out of the parking lot.

"Okay," Castiel said, but the refusal seeped through his voice.

"Why are you in such a hurry to arrive all of a sudden? You were pretty calm about it yesterday." Castiel thought about just putting him off with another lie but after last night he deserved the truth.

"You know Lucifer?"

"That Devil’s kid?"

"He doesn’t have an evil father," Castiel said, confused.

"He sure acts like it."

"Anyway, Lucifer has taken my position as long as I’m incapacitated. Or that’s what I thought until I got a text yesterday, telling me that it looks like he’s gonna take over for the season. Because as you probably know, my ankle is not gonna be magically back to normal as soon as the splint comes off. I’ll need to continue physical therapy and who knows when I’ll be able to stand on the field again."

Dean let out a low whistle. "That sucks."

"Yeah, that sucks," Castiel laughed dryly at the understatement. He had worked so hard for this crap, wasn’t it ironic how easily he could be replaced? As if he was worth nothing.

"But you’re really good, right? I’m sure the coach prefers you over that weird kid."

"That’s what I thought but apparently…" Castiel shrugged and turned towards the window. Maybe he wasn’t as good as he always had thought.

"Hey, if you want to, I can talk to the coach. See if my words mean anything." Castiel’s eyes went back to Dean at his sudden offer.

"But you hate the coach?"

Dean shrugged, throwing a quick glance at Castiel. "And you like being on the team." Castiel considered it for two solid seconds.

"No, it’s alright." He didn’t need Dean Winchester to save his ass. He’d do fine on his own. Once the coach saw how good he was even with a sprained ankle, he had to grant him his place on the field.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, where are we eating?" Castiel asked, trying to steer the conversation into a different direction. But the way Dean looked at him, he wasn’t being subtle enough about it. He answered nevertheless.

"Starbucks? We can go somewhere else if you want but there you know what to expect."

"No, Starbucks sounds good." Castiel couldn’t hold back the grin that was spreading out on his face. Of course, Dean would suggest Starbucks. Was there anything that was more hipster?

"Why are you smiling like this?"

"It’s just so stereotypical. A hipster that likes Starbucks?" Castiel chuckled, even continuing as Dean send him an angry glance.

"I’m not a hipster. Just because I like wearing faded shirts and Starbucks?"

"Do I need to get out that tape collection underneath my seat? Or point at this artifact around your neck?" Castiel didn’t even need to look at Dean to know being pigeonholed was pissing him off, he had that figured out in the first seconds after he met him. But he didn’t want things to tense up so close to the finish line. "But I know of course that you’re so much more than that." He nudged Dean’s arm, voice soaked with sarcasm. "You’re so, so much more."

That actually brought a smile on Dean’s face. "Tell me one thing."

"You’re, um…" Castiel racked his brain, desperately trying to think of something. "An idiot."

"Wow, your compliments just keep getting better," Dean said, the smile still on his lips.

"What can I say, I have my good days."

 

"You can’t tell me this is bad," Dean said, his mouth full of grilled cheese.

"It’s okay." Castiel shrugged. His egg-salad sandwich could have done with a bit of honey.

Dean rolled his eyes, but bit back an argument. "You finally wanna tell me what has been bothering you this whole time?"

"Huh?" Castiel tilted his head. What was he playing at?

"You’re too focused on the table. Usually your eyes go everywhere when we’re eating."

"I’ve been thinking."

"Yeah, and I’m asking about what." Dean took a sip of his coffee.

"Uh, when we’re at the camp… You won’t tell anyone what happened last night, right?" If he was planning to, Castiel needed to know now. Money wouldn’t keep him quiet but a good word at some Ivy Leagues could.

"If you don’t want me to, no."

"I’d prefer if you keep quiet about it. It was nothing. It won’t happen again." The words brought up bad memories in him. Not only from last night but from all those dark phases before.

Dean looked at him warily. "You call that nothing?" Castiel groaned internally. Why did he have to make this so difficult? He had no responsibility, no obligation for him. Every other sane person would just leave it.

"Yes! Because it won’t happen again. I was angry and now I’m not. And if you wanna talk about my problems, then we also need to talk about yours."

"Oh yeah, what are my problems?" Dean grinned. Castiel mirrored it, as he knew Dean felt superior when he was clearly not.

"You’re avoiding home. And the camp. You want to stay on the road forever. Which leads me to the question, what are you hiding from? Wanna know my guess? Responsibility. You’re so afraid of pissing someone off that you can’t say no. You’re in a student council you don’t wanna be in. You’re on a trip you don’t really wanna be on. I’d bet you don’t even wanna go to uni after school. But you’re going to. Because that’s what your mum and your dad and your little brother expect. And you can’t disappoint them, can you? You’re so afraid of disappointing everyone around you, that you’ve become a disappointment. Nothing more than a shell." Castiel knew he had made a mistake. Dean’s lips were slightly parted, no smile left on them. His eyes burned themselves into Castiel's, full of hate. He had gone too far. Why couldn’t he shut his damn mouth? Why had he let Dean pull him into this conversation? Had he lost his mind on this trip?

"So are you," Dean said. His voice surprisingly calm. Castiel handled the insult the only way he knew how, with sarcasm.

"While I do sometimes act like I don’t have a brain, I can guarantee you it’s on my own account, because of my own choice."

Dean shook his head. "You like to believe that. But you’re using this trip as much as I do. I haven’t seen you do school work once."

"I don’t need to." Castiel was naturally a fast learner.

"And what’s with-"

"Cut it, Winchester. Everything I do, I do because I want to. And I’d like to arrive at camp today, so if you don’t mind, can we get the fuck out of here, honey?"

"You’re such an asshole." Dean sounded seriously pissed off. He didn’t look at him as stormed out of the cafe and left Castiel limping behind him, trying to catch up.

 

The silence in the car was tense. Even Castiel felt like he was suffocating. But he didn’t apologize.

"I’ll go into this 7 Eleven. You wait in the car." Dean said, pulling into another parking lot. Castiel didn’t protest. As soon as Dean slammed the door shut, he took a deep breath. Only ten more hours. They would arrive really late but surely Dean was able to drive through the dark. And once they were at the camp, they didn’t need to hang out anymore. Castiel would go back to his group, to Meg and Dean… God knows what he’d do. It wasn’t Castiel’s business anyway.

He got his phone out. Five new messages from Meg.

9:38 am _are u on the road?_

10:11 am _didn’t u want to leave at 9?_

10:45 am _omg. Jess got super wasted last night. u should see her rn. so hungover_

12:01 pm _i’ll kill u if u overslept_

12:34 pm _u totally did didn’t u_

Castiel typed his reply.

13:16 pm _Yeah, alarm didn’t go off. We’ll drive through, though. Should be there at midnight._

He contemplated adding a "can’t wait" but why bother lying? Instead he mindlessly scrolled through other messages. None of them were of any importance. He just needed a distraction. And it worked. As Dean opened the door again, Castiel jumped at the noise.

"Fuck, can’t you knock?"

"Last time I checked this was my car. Should I knock on my own car?" Castiel didn’t answer to that. He could feel that it wouldn’t end well if they started this argument.

But to his own surprise he tried a different conversation topic, almost an attempt to smoothen the tension between them. "What did you buy?"

"Just some food and Red Bull." Castiel’s communication skills were exhausted after that. Fine, if the idiot didn’t want to talk, they wouldn’t. Ten more hours. Only ten more hours. It was like a mantra in his head. But somehow the repetition didn’t make him feel much better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any feedback would be highly appreciated. (Also a huge thanks to all of you that have given this story a kudo or even commented!! That keeps me going :) )


	7. The Fortune of Misfortune

_Dean's POV_

 

Dean was officially done. Castiel had crossed a line. Preaching him about his own life, when he hadn’t even figured his stuff out. And Dean knew all of it, alright? He knew he was a disappointment. But at least he tried. And all he had wanted was an escape for a couple of days. Was that too much to ask? Ten hours was all he had left. But maybe if he persuaded the coach to let him go, he could drive right back.

Dean smiled. A plan began to form in his head. He’d take a different route and make a stop in every city or village that had anything interesting to offer. He’d sleep in the back of the Impala so he had more money for gas.

"We’re not gonna stop today?" Castiel asked.

"No, that’s what the food is for." He had bought a little of everything. Fruits, sweets and prepared dishes. It was enough to get them through the day. Or several, to be honest.

"Can I eat something now?" They had just finished breakfast how could that guy be hungry already? But Dean kept a stern face.

"I can’t stop you, can I?"

"Listen, if this is about earlier, I might have been a bit harsh but it was just the truth." Castiel shrugged, looking him straight in the eye.

"If that was meant to be an apology, it sucked."

"What do you want me say? An insincere ‘I’m sorry’?"

Dean shook his head. "Forget it." There were only ten hours left before they would never see each other again. They didn’t need to have a therapy session so close to the finish line.

Castiel scoffed but didn’t answer. Instead he reached behind his back and pulling the shopping bag towards him.

\-----

The car stuttered. This couldn’t be good. Dean could feel the Impala stopping any moment. On an Interstate. With cars behind him. The vision of a major accident began to form in his head. He switched lanes as quickly as possible, trying to reach the far right side.

"Is everything alright?" Castiel asked, looking up from his phone, which he hadn’t done in the last hour or so.

"Yeah, sure. The car just normally jerks its way over Interstates." Dean flinched at his passive-aggressive sarcasm.

"Should I call an assistance service?"

"We don’t even know what’s wrong yet." Dean finally pulled the car to the side. "Let me have a look first and see if I can fix it. You can stay in the car."

"As if I’m missing Dean the mechanic in action." Dean rolled his eyes and turned the headlights on, so bypassing cars would see them.

"My dad’s a mechanic, I know what I’m doing. Save your bad jokes for someone else," Dean said, leaving the car to inspect it.

"I wasn’t gonna say anything!" Castiel followed him out. Dean threw a sarcastic glance at him over the hood of the car.

"Okay, maybe. But you don’t look exactly like a mechanic."

"Are we back to this again?" Dean was tired of fighting.

"Again, I’m just stating the truth." The defensiveness in his voice was impossible to miss. But Dean ignored it and continued his walk around the car. The cause of the stuttering was obvious as soon as he got to the back. The right tire was deflated so much, the felly was nearly touching the ground. Luckily, Dean was prepared for such a case. He opened the trunk and got their luggage out so he had better access to the stuff laying beneath it. But his mind was still circling around Castiel’s comment.

"You know, maybe you should try not to focus on stereotypes so much and not be so harsh to people. Could be useful for your future." Dean had his head down, searching for a wrench in the chaos he called his trunk, but he could feel Castiel’s gaze on him.

"I know how to talk to business people. Don’t worry about me," he replied sarcastically.

"I wasn’t talking about business people." Dean pulled out a wrench from underneath a cover and went to the flat tire.

"Who else would matter in my future?"

Dean laughed drily. "Friends? Maybe your wife? Or just the random people you’ll encounter every day?" He crouched beside his car and started loosening the lug nuts. His breathing was getting heavier as he continued. Whoever had put them on knew what they were doing.

Dean was too fixed on his task to notice that Castiel didn’t respond. Only as he got up to get the jack, did he saw him staring.

"Something you wanna say?" Dean asked, shifting under his gaze. He didn’t like what this stare did to him. How it made his heart race and got under his skin, making it feel like summer instead of winter.

"I’m not doing it on purpose," Castiel said quietly. His eyes got softer.

"What exactly?"

"Being harsh. It’s just… I can’t help it sometimes."

"I’m not mad at you for being harsh. You were being a hypocritical ass, that’s all." Dean got the jack from the trunk and put it beside the tire.

"Hypocritical?" Castiel asked, not caring about the ass part. That bit at least, was a fact by now.

"Yeah, man. Shit’s weighing you down and you’re using this as a distraction. And you cling to that bit of hope that everything will be better once we’re at the camp, but it won’t. You’ve gotta sort your shit out, whatever it is, because otherwise it’ll destroy you. I’ve seen what it can do. In fact, I cleaned it up."

"So now you’re the one preaching?" Castiel looked down at him.

"I’m not preaching, I’m simply returning your wonderful favor: telling you the truth." Dean had jacked the car up about six inches of the ground, just as his dad had taught him. Now he needed to completely remove the lug nuts, so he could take the wheel off.

"And I’ve told you before, I’m good. I’m not carrying any unresolved problems around, apart from the fact that Lucifer is stealing my position this very minute."

"Do you like playing football?" Dean remembered his time on the field. He had loved it. He hadn’t needed to think, it was plainly a physical match. It was pure.

Out of the corner of his eye Dean saw Castiel looking at him in confusion. "Of course," Castiel said, irritated.

"Tell me one thing you love about it." Dean pulled the wheel towards him, removing it from car. He set it on the ground and stood up.

"I…" Castiel’s gaze travelled past him. "I love the… the teamwork." His voice was firm, leaving no place for doubt but Dean knew better. He chuckled.

"You don’t." He went to the back of the car again to get the new wheel he luckily always carried around with him in case this happened.

"And how would you know?"

"Because you think of everyone as business contacts. And if they’re not useful…" Dean shrugged, which was highly difficult with a wheel in his hands.

"I don’t!" If Castiel didn’t have his crutches, he’d have crossed his arms. Dean could tell with one quick glance.

He let the wheel down with a sigh and kneeled in front of it. "Really?"

"I’m not like my father!" Dean stopped, hands hovering above the wheel. This was the reason Castiel acted like a complete asshole. His father. Dean cursed himself for being so blind. Anna had talked about him; not much but surely enough.

"I’m gonna walk a bit," Castiel said.

"I shouldn’t have pushed, I’m sorry." Dean watched the muscles underneath Castiel’s shirt flex with every step.

"Don’t worry. There is no mirror for me to smash." Bitterness pervaded Castiel’s voice.

"Jesus, wait." Dean jumped to his feet and caught up to him in a couple of steps. "You’re not your father."

Castiel scoffed. "You think I don’t know that?" But nevertheless, he continued limping. Dean held him back with a hand on his shoulder.

"No, I don’t think you do."

Castiel closed his eyes. "Just leave me alone, please." He said quietly.

"Then stay by the car." Dean was seriously getting worried now. Castiel only need to trip and he wouldn’t be able to get up again.

Castiel eyes met his and for a second everything was silent. "Fine." Dean nodded, turning back to the car. He heard Castiel following him. After returning to his position next to the wheel, he resumed his task.

 

"I’m done." Dean closed the trunk just as Castiel got up.

"Let’s continue driving then." Shortly after, they were both seated. Dean turned the key. But the motor didn’t start. No matter how often Dean repeated the action, it wouldn’t ignite.

"What’s wrong?" Castiel asked.

"I don’t know." Dean’s gaze travelled over the dashboard. "Fuck. Gas ran out."

"Gas ran out? You mean you didn’t fill it up?" Dean slapped his hand on the wheel.

"I’m such an idiot. I wanted to do that after breakfast this morning." How could he forget? He even remembered the damn food!

"I’ll call assistance services." While Castiel was busy, Dean got out of the car again. He wanted to check if there wasn’t a can in the trunk. Even though he couldn’t remember packing one, he couldn’t be sure. His dad used the car every once in a while too. Maybe they were lucky and he had taken one with him. A quick glance told him this wasn’t the case. Frustrated, he slammed the trunk shut and went back to his seat.

"They’ll be here in about an hour," Castiel informed him.

"An hour?" They were certainly taking their time.

"Yeah." Dean sighed and leaned his head back.

"I’m sorry. I should’ve remembered to refuel. I know arriving today was kind of important for you." Because let’s face it, they weren’t gonna make it. They had already been late from the start but changing the wheel had pushed them back even further. And now they had to wait for another hour. No, arriving today wasn’t a possibility.

"It’s okay."

"But you wanted to-"

"It doesn’t matter."

"Why?" Dean couldn’t wrap his head around it.

"Because you were right," Castiel admitted. "It’s a fool’s hope. I won’t be able to do anything with crutches."

"You could poke him." Dean shrugged.

Castiel laughed. "You’re an idiot." Dean turned towards him, grinning. It was hard not to let his gaze wander down to Castiel’s lips, which were pulled apart in a smile.

"What are we gonna do for the next hour?" Castiel asked.

"How about…" Dean’s gaze wandered through the car. "A picnic? Not an actual picnic. Just eating whatever I bought."

"So, we have lunch?"

"Yeah, if you wanna call it that. Doesn’t sound as fun as picnic tho," Dean said disappointedly.

"But it’s not a picnic if we’re not outside!"

"You can even go far with those crutches!"

"I can go far enough," Castiel answered, opening the door. He grabbed the bag and slid it onto his wrist before grabbing the crutches.

"You can’t be serious." Dean chuckled but followed him out of the car.

"If you wanna make this a picnic we’re gonna at least attempt to do it properly." He limped a couple feet away before sitting down on the asphalt. Dean sat beside him. A smile remained on his lips. He had won another day away from camp, but somehow it felt like much more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback would be cool, so I know I'm not just posting these into a void :p (seriously even tell me if you hate something, so I can make it better)


	8. The Voices Inside Your Mind

_Castiel's POV_

 

Castiel had lost hope. There was no way he wouldn’t sit on the substitute’s bench when they arrived at camp. And it was an unspoken law that once you were on the substitute’s bench, you remained there for a while. He was defenseless. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t train with a sprained ankle. To say it sucked was an understatement. He had never been someone who accepted his fate without a fight but this time he didn’t even get a chance. How could you fight a battle if you weren’t at the war front? And his absence led to a win for the opposition. There was nothing to be done. At least not on the field. But he could sneak his way back in through the backdoor. The coach. He could need a helpful assistant. Someone who had been playing in the team long enough to know the rules; the obvious as much as the hidden. And Castiel just so happened to be available. Tomorrow he’d propose the idea to the coach. Castiel was certain he’d accept the offer. There was no reason not to.

He smiled, seemingly at the phone in his hand but there were only the same old messages from Meg. Tomorrow would be a great day. Meanwhile though, he and Dean were trapped in another motel. The assistance service had really taken the full hour until they arrived and then charged them a ridiculous amount of money just for a bit of gas. Castiel had payed them with squinted eyes but in the end it was his father’s money anyway. Now, Dean had gone out to buy some takeaway for them both (he had promised not to go for burgers). He probably felt like he owed him something, not thinking that money wasn’t really an issue for Castiel. Or he was to prideful to accept it. Either way, Castiel got to lay around on his bed while Dean had to deal with annoying waiters.

As he turned the TV on, mindlessly switching channels, he found himself stopping on Grey’s Anatomy. He left it on partly because he knew Dean would want to watch it when he came back but mostly because he needed to know if the now married couple would tell the others about their spontaneous decision. He’d miss the show when they arrived in San Francisco, although he’d never tell anyone that. When he heard the lock clicking, he did his best to look absorbed into his phone, not focused on the TV at all.

Dean laughed. "I really got you hooked, huh?" He set the food on table and shrugged his jacket off.

"There’s nothing better on TV and I thought you might wanna watch it." Castiel shrugged and watched as Dean unpacked the plastic bag.

"Nice try." Dean smirked at him but dropped the topic. "I got you Chinese noodles. I hope they’re okay." Dean passed a box to him.

"Sure, that’s fine."

A couple minutes into dinner and loads of drama later, Castiel cleared his throat. Right after their pathetic picnic he had phoned the coach because he needed to inform him about the incident. And since he was already talking to him, he had taken the opportunity to ask him about Dean’s comeback. Unfortunately the coach really wanted him back, but this gave Castiel the chance get on the coach’s good side. All he needed to do was persuade Dean to join the team again. If he succeeded, the spot as assistant was undoubtedly his. (Never-mind that the coach wasn’t even searching for one. He’d want Castiel.)

"What are you gonna do while you’re at camp? It’s probably going to be really boring if you’re not training," Castiel said.

"I’m not staying." Dean didn’t loose his gaze from the TV but Castiel turned to him.

"Why not?"

"Because there’s no reason for me to."

"The weather is nice," Castiel said in a weak attempt to persuade him to stay.

Dean chuckled. "And what does it matter if I’m just in my room catching up with school work?"

"Ugh, forget school. They’ll forgive you and you can still study when we’re back." Finally Dean looked at him.

"No, they’ll forgive you. I’m just the driver. They’ll say I had plenty of time to catch up. And they’re not wrong."

"And you say you’re not ambitious." Castiel smiled. "But think about joining the team again. You wouldn’t need to do any of that stuff while we’re there. And I know you like playing football."

Dean’s eyes narrowed. "Did the coach tell you to say that?"

"Those weren’t his exact words. But yes, he wants you back on the team."

"I can’t believe it." Dean rubbed a hand over his face before turning back to him again. "You’re really that afraid of your position? Are you that desperate?"

"What do you mean?"

"You don’t even like me. You’re desperate enough to get a guy you can’t stand to join the team."

"You think I’d talk to you if I couldn’t stand you?" Castiel raised an eyebrow. Dean didn’t need to know that he had no intentions of ever speaking to him again after this was over.

Dean seemed surprised by his answer, but his expressions went back to normal a second later. "Either way, I’m not joining the team."

"But why not? You must be good, if coach is making a fuss about it like that." Castiel couldn’t understand how someone could just give up, maybe he wasn’t so ambitious after all.

"I told you, he’s a homophobic son of a bitch. I’m not playing for him." Dean’s voice grew louder.

"But imagine how good it’d look on your resume."

"I’m. Not. Going. Back," Dean said through gritted teeth. Castiel kept pushing nevertheless.

"Who cares if the coach is a prick? You won’t be there for long anyway."

"I swear if you keep talking, I’ll tell him about yesterday evening." Dean looked ready to murder him but Castiel couldn’t give up.

"You wouldn’t dare."

"Oh yes, I would." Castiel bit his lip in thought. Could he risk Dean telling the coach what had happened? If word got to his father… No. It wasn’t worth the risk. He’d try again tomorrow.

"Okay, it’s your choice." Castiel tried his best to make his voice indifferent. When he continued eating, his noodles were barely warm. But Dean was fuming now, his dinner long forgotten.

"I don’t know who he thinks he is. First telling me I’m not a good representation of the team and then not even having the courage to ask himself, if I want back on the team."

"He told you, you weren’t a good representation? Why?" If Dean sucked at football, why would he want him back now?

"Because apparently my sexuality was scaring people away from the team. Have you ever heard such bullshit?" Dean stood up and went over to the bag the food had been packed in.

"You’re gay." It wasn't an accusation, he was merely stating a newly discovered fact. Castiel stuffed some more noodles in his mouth before they got entirely cold.

"As gay as you can fucking be." He got a can out and held it up questioningly. Castiel nodded in answer to his unspoken question. Dean took another one out and gave the other to him.

"So you didn’t leave the team out of some idealistic reasons but because you were protecting yourself?"

Dean scoffed. "I wasn’t protecting myself. He made it clear I’d only be a sub if I stayed. And I do have a little dignity." Castiel had never heard that story. But he didn’t listen to gossip anyway so he wouldn’t know.

"And that’s all it took? A lousy threat and you run away?" He knew he was being rude but he needed Dean to come back. He didn’t like being misjudged so Castiel did exactly that. Pushing buttons had always been one of his expertise.

"I wasn’t the one in charge! I couldn’t do anything."

"You could have stayed; protest. But you ran. I guess it was one expectation less to deal with."

"That’s not true! I left because I had better things to do than trying to convert a homophobic."

"Whatever you say." The doubts were planted in Dean’s mind now, all Castiel had to do was to wait and pick his yield.

 

Castiel stared at the silhouette of a chair in the corner of the room. His mind was racing with worries but he refused to give into any of them. Maybe if he kept ignoring them long enough, he’d finally fall asleep.

They didn’t disappear. He couldn’t shut them out. A sigh escaped his mouth and he turned on his back, running his hands over his face and through his hair. He wanted to run. Leave his thoughts behind, the only sound being his breathing.

"You’re still awake?" Dean asked. Castiel toyed with the idea of just not answering but he had probably made too much noise to be believable.

"Yeah." Silence spread out and for once Dean didn’t break it. "I had thought about quitting it."

"Football?"

"Yeah."

"And why didn’t you?"

"Because I couldn’t. I had spend so much time and energy getting  into where I was, I couldn’t imagine leaving all of that behind only because of a mood."

"You think it was just a mood?"

"I certainly don’t wanna quit now, so yes."

"Why are you staying then? Just because you’ve worked hard for it?"

"It looks good in my resume, too," Castiel said with a light tone. Dean chuckled but stopped as he added, "I was serious."

"Why would you even need a good resume when you’re getting a job in your dad’s company?"

"He’s not gonna give his company into my hands just because I’m his son." Irritation flecked Castiel’s voice.

"How else would he choose his successor?" Dean was audibly getting confused now, too.

"Obviously by detecting the best one of his children."

"You’re in a competition against your siblings?" Castiel furrowed his eyebrows at the shock in Dean’s voice.

"How else would he find an appropriate successor?"

"I don’t know, drawing straws?"

Castiel scoffed. "You have no idea how to run a business."

There was a moment of silence before Dean asked, "So you’re playing football for your father?" Now it was Castiel’s turn to be quiet. He had never thought of it that way. Of course, he liked football otherwise he’d never gotten so good at it, but it never had been much about winning or loosing for him. Obviously, playing for a shit team wouldn’t do much for him in a resume but he always gave his best and the outcome wasn’t in his control. He had no influence on the other team members.

Castiel heard Dean’s snoring just as he wanted to give him some half-true answer. Seemed like he got away for now.

But his thoughts returned, louder than before. Haunting him through the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the nice comments on the last chapter! I smiled so hard reading them :p You're awesome. I hope you liked this chapter (and maybe have something to say about it??). Anyway, I'll see you next week :)


	9. The Power of Persuasion

_Dean's POV_

 

Dean had gone for a run, showered, gotten breakfast and packed the car before Castiel even had gotten up. Just as on their first night. But this time there wasn’t the excitement of a day on the road flooding his veins, anxiety had replaced it.

It took him three times to wake Castiel up (again the promise of food was what got him going). He sleepily walked into the bathroom, his hair a mess and his eyes still halfway closed. Dean couldn’t fight the faint smile inching its way at the sight. The door shut close and Dean snapped out of his stare. He sat down on the table where he had left a single book - history — so he could study while Castiel was getting ready.

It didn’t take him long, though and half an hour later they were on the Interstate heading for San Francisco.

"So," Castiel said, chewing on a bite of the sandwich Dean had gotten him, "Have you thought about it?" He didn’t need to elaborate, Dean knew what he was referring to.

"I think my answer yesterday was pretty clear, wasn’t it?" There was no edge to his voice, though. If the coach had asked Castiel to persuade him, there was no way he could have said no. Not if his position on the team meant anything to him. But even so, Dean couldn’t say yes, although he knew what this could mean for Castiel. He was being selfish and he knew it.

"Maybe you changed your mind."

"I didn’t."

"Okay." A couple seconds later Castiel continued. "You know, I can’t wait to get rid of these crutches and finally be able to train again. I just miss the rush of a good game."

"I see what you’re doing there," Dean said, not fooled by Castiel’s manipulation tactics.

"What am I trying to do?" His voice was so innocent, it could only be fake.

"You know exactly what you’re doing."

"I’m just telling you how great football is, isn’t that allowed?" Castiel turned to him, a hand placed mockingly on his chest.

"It’s not working. If I had liked football enough to deal with assholes in order to be able to play it, I’d have stayed."

Castiel groaned. "Come on, don’t make this so difficult."

"Then stop bothering me with it."

"If you agree to spend the next couple of days training with us, I will." Why did he always have to push him?

"I don’t think you’re gonna be training any time soon." Castiel ignored his rude comment for the sake of pushing him further.

"Will you?" Dean could feel Castiel’s gaze lingering on him. If he agreed to his offer, there wouldn’t be a relaxed road-trip back. But being able to play football once more definitely sounded tempting.

"Can I think about it?" It was the only answer Dean could think of to shut Castiel up.

"You have one hour," Castiel said after a quick look at his phone.

"How generous," And because Dean couldn’t bite it back he added, "Your majesty."

Castiel groaned but Dean didn’t miss the soft smile tugging at his lips.

 

By the time the hour was up, Dean had nearly died of boredom. The only thing mildly entertaining was the music filling the car. Finally, Castiel looked up from his phone.

"So, what’s your decision?"

"No."

"I’m not giving you more time. Take the offer or leave it."

"That was my answer. No, I’m not gonna play the next couple days or ever again in this team." Castiel’s silence revealed that he was surprised by his answer, but it had taken Dean only a couple minutes to make this decision. He had quit football for a reason and as long as it didn’t change he wouldn’t; he couldn’t go back. As tempting as it was.

"Okay then," Castiel said slowly, shifting his gaze back to his phone. But he only stared at his home screen and Dean took the opportunity to strike up a conversation.

"Have you ever been to San Francisco?" Admittedly, it wasn’t the most exciting topic but it was the only one Dean could come up with.

"Yeah, once with my father."

"You went to San Francisco over the holidays? That’s so cool. We’ve never travelled that far."

"We went there for a business meeting, not holidays." Castiel opened his texts but Dean ignored the hint and continued talking.

"Did you like it there?"

"I didn’t see much of the city. We only stayed for a couple hours before flying home again." Dean didn’t waste his breath asking what the point of a trip there was, if you weren’t exploring the city. Castiel would just look at him like he was a complete idiot. But he didn’t gave up on the conversation. He switched topics as fast as the songs on his tape. By the time he pulled off the Interstate he was so annoyed with Castiel’s short answers, he finally shut up. It was probably for the better because Dean didn’t trust himself to keep the nervous edge out of his voice. Camp was so close now. He was tempted to slow the car down but that wouldn’t stop them from arriving today. It was only one pm.

Castiel had turned his glance eagerly out of the window and kept shifting around on his seat. Dean swallowed hard as a large sign with the words "trainings camp" became visible in the distance. All too quickly, he was driving into the parking lot. Castiel nearly jumped out of the car as Dean turned the engine off.

"Finally," Castiel mumbled and limped to the trunk. Dean stayed in his seat, taking a couple deep breaths before joining Castiel.

"I’ll carry it." Dean said and shouldered Castiel’s duffel bag. As he opened his mouth to protest, Dean cut him off, "If coach sees you carrying as much as a plastic bag he’ll rip my head off."

Castiel considered his words for a moment and shrugged. He turned around and started walking towards the entrance of the building. Dean fell into step beside him. The knot in his stomach became tighter the closer they got.

And then they stood in the entrance hall. A wooden reception desk went along the whole side of the room but nobody was behind it. The white wallpaper behind it was covered with postcards, giving it a more homely feel.

They hadn’t stood there for long when some of Castiel’s teammates came down the stairs to greet them.

"You made it!" Ash said, slapping Dean on the back. He smiled at the other boy.

"Hey Dean, I’ve heard you’re going to play with us for the next couple days. That’s awesome, man." Gabriel joined them with more teammates in tow.

"No, whoever told you that must have misunderstood something." Dean’s glance flicked over to Castiel who was standing a little outside their new formed circle. His teammates were most likely aware of his attitude and knew when to avoid him.

Castiel only shrugged in answer and turned away from him.

"You have to!" Rick said.

"What’s the point in staying if you don’t play?" Gabriel asked.

"I’m not staying." His attention drifted to the girls coming down the stairs. He recognized a few of them but the younger ones were just not familiar. One of them had a vicious smile on her lips and parted the crowd of girls around her. She didn’t even glance at the boys, but kept her eyes fixed on her destination.

He faintly heard the guys around him arguing that he had to stay but he couldn’t focus on it. The knot in his stomach hadn’t disappeared. It tensed as if it knew something Dean hadn’t realized yet.

The girl got to Castiel and slung her arms around his neck. She pulled him down and crushed their lips together. Their eyes closed at the touch, their bodies pressed together. Dean thought he might be sick. He quickly averted his face back to whoever was speaking at the moment.

"They fit together, don’t they?" Rick said, who must have followed his stare.

"Anyway, here are his things. Could you tell your coach I’m headed back home?" Dean asked cowardly. But he didn’t care, he just wanted to be back on the road. He wanted to get that weight off his chest.

"I think you can tell him that yourself." One of the other boys pointed to Dean’s right. Dean followed his finger and for a moment everything broke down. He choked on his own thoughts, his own body turning against him.

"Hey, everything alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost." Ash nudged him with his elbow and Dean snapped out of his trance drawing in a sharp breath.

"Yeah, I’m fine." He offered them a weak smile and hoped it was enough to keep them quiet. Either way, no one had a chance to say anything else because the coach had reached them.

"Dean, you’ve made it. So good to see you, it’s been ages, hasn’t it? Have the guys told you where you’re staying yet?" He didn’t even wait for Dean’s answer before continuing, "Ash has offered to share a room with you. He’ll show you where it is so you can dump your stuff and then you should join us on the field. What do you say?" Dean had to take every ounce of strength to meet his eyes and it was even harder not to punch him the moment he saw the smile on his lips.

"Actually, I’m not gonna stay. I wanna get back to school as soon as possible, so I’ll better go now otherwise I won’t get far before it’s dark." Dean forced another smile and turned to leave.

"You’re not going anywhere." Authority had taken over his voice and Dean stopped in his tracks. "We can’t let you drive alone. You’ll leave when we do and one of the guys can keep you company. Or maybe one of the girls would be better." Dean wanted to strangle him for that comment. The conversation around him had died, everyone waiting for Dean’s reaction.

"Last I checked I’m of age, which is probably one of the reasons I got chosen for this in the first place. So, thanks for your concern but I think I can make my own decisions." He ignored the coach’s angry stare and smiled mockingly. "Goodbye." As soon as he turned his back to them his smile dropped and he had to keep himself from clenching his fist. How could he ever play for that son of a bitch?

He had nearly reached his car as someone shouted, "Wait!" He looked over his shoulder and saw Castiel limping towards him. Assuming that he had probably forgotten something, Dean waited for him to catch up, impatiently tapping his foot on the ground.  Castiel stopped right in front of him.

"Stay," Castiel said.

"That’s what you wanted to say? I’m impressed you walked all the way to say that. And sorry to disappoint you but I’m leaving. Bye." Dean got into the car without looking back at him. He had just started the engine as the passenger door opened. Castiel dropped himself on the seat.

"Listen to me, would you?" Castiel said, a hint of annoyance in his voice. As Dean didn’t answer, he added, "You can’t drive away with me anyway, much less with an open door, so turn the engine off already." He still didn’t answer but did as he was told.

"I know you’re super set to get away from here but you won’t get far today anyway. So save the money you’d spend for a motel and stay here. You can leave tomorrow morning as soon as possible and drive away from every responsibility you ever had."

"I’m not fleeing from responsibility."

"Yeah, you can keep the lies to yourself. Ash is waiting for you inside. He’ll show you around." Castiel got out of the car, slamming the door behind him. Dean was left in an uncomfortable silence and quickly filled it with the sound of the engine. But no matter how hard he tried to deny it, Castiel was right. Money was a crucial part in his plan. He needed to save as much as he could. And spending a night here wasn’t the worst. He didn’t need to watch them practice (or God forbid join them). A sign inside had informed him about a cafeteria where he could sit down and do stuff for school. And tomorrow morning he could leave as soon as he was awake.

Reluctantly, he turned the engine off and followed Castiel inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the comments on the last chapter! I really appreciate it!  
> Now the bad news, I probably won't be able for the next few weeks because I've got exams. Maybe I can manage one for next week but the two weeks after that I will definitely not have the time to write :/ I hope you still stick around because this story is nowhere near finished even though they arrived ;)


	10. The Change of Attitude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Drive: Dean and Castiel arrived at the football camp. Dean decided to stay for the night because it saves him some money for a motel. Castiel is worried about his position on the team and wanted to persuade Coach Sanderson into making him his assistant. For this reason he also tried to convince Dean to stay because the Coach wants him back on the team (Dean got kicked out because the Coach is a homophobic ass).  
> Meg is Castiel's girlfriend.

_Castiel's POV_

 

Castiel despised afternoon practice. He was doomed to stand at the side of the field and take notes about his teammates and their constant mistakes. His hand hurt from gripping the pen so tightly. But he got what he wanted. He was coach Sanderson’s new assistant. Even if it had taken a lot of convincing arguments till the coach reluctantly gave in. His spot on the team was safe; for now.

"Hey, loser," a female voice said behind him. He jolted around.

Meg laughed. "Did I scare you?"

"I was focused on these …" Castiel motioned over his shoulder towards the field, lacking an acceptable insult.

"How about we go out tonight? There’s a restaurant not far from here, which I think will be bearable for your fancy ass."

"Yeah, sure. Sounds great." Castiel turned back to the field, focusing on his task again. A hand slid up his back and he closed his eyes in silent pleasure. Her other hand snatched the pen away from his fingers. He turned around to protest but hesitated as Meg let it disappear between her breasts.

"Come and get it," she said, grinning at him. He crushed their mouths together, the clipboard falling on the ground with a thud. His hand disappeared in her hair, pressing her closer while the other hovered near her shirt rim. She wrapped her arms around his neck as her tongue fought for a dominance Castiel didn’t give her, not this time. He let his fingers travel up her stomach, earning a soft moan from her, and snatched the pen out of her bra. He drew back. Meg grinned.

"I’ll pick you up at seven. Be ready," she said, before taking off down a path probably headed back to her practice. Castiel watched her go, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. It quickly disappeared as he noticed Ash running onto the field to join the others.

"Ash!" His voice was harsh enough to make him flinch. He quickly run over to Castiel.

"What is it?" He crossed his arms but his tough attitude couldn’t hide a little fear in his eyes. Castiel was tempted to grin, he was incapacitated and still this kid respected him.

"Where did you leave Dean?"

"He wanted to do his homework in the cafeteria."

"Did I not tell you to show him the field?"

"Dude, I tried to convince him but after I showed him our room he didn’t want to go anywhere, said it makes no sense if he leaves tomorrow anyway." Castiel rolled his eyes internally. Dean was too stubborn for his own good.

"I’m going to handle him myself then. If any of you slack off while I’m gone, it’s on you." He didn’t wait for an answer but limped back inside the building, glad to have an excuse to escape practice.

Dean was exactly where Ash had told him. Castiel had partly expected him to hit the road as soon as he was alone for a second. But after the little showdown with the coach earlier he probably didn’t need to hide his intentions anymore. The entire team knew - Dean Winchester didn’t want to be here. And it was Castiel’s job to convince him otherwise.

He walked past empty tables, the gaze of a grumpy looking kitchen lady following his every move. He didn’t bother greeting him.

"You’re really gonna waste your time doing homework?" Dean rolled his eyes and lifted his head.

"Where are your crutches?" Castiel didn’t miss the hint of panic in his voice.

"I left them in my room."

"Why would you be so stupid?"

"I don’t need them." Castiel crossed his arms as Dean surveyed his posture. He deliberately stood on his left leg to relieve the other one. "Now pack your stuff and come with me."

Dean chuckled drily. "I told you, I’m not going near the field."

"Stop being so stubborn."

"I could say the same about you." Dean pointed to his leg with the pen in his hand.

"If I get my crutches, will you come with me?"

"Why would I care if you get hurt?" This guy was really trying his hardest to offend him. Too bad Castiel had heard it all before.

"Ah right, I forgot how whiny you get when you’re angry. Guess what, I don’t give a shit. Pull yourself together and walk onto the field." Dean’s mouth opened in protest, so Castiel quickly added, "Stop being selfish for once." His mouth closed, eyes wide in disbelief. Castiel regretted his words as soon as they left his mouth. But he wasn’t taking them back now.

"Oh, so you’re not asking me because you fear Lucifer might take your position away? Have you never thought that it might be better to stop?"

"Don’t be ridiculous." But Castiel had thought about it. More than he liked to admit.

Dean studied him a moment longer before going back to his work. Castiel sighed and bent over, snatching the pen from his fingers. A raised eyebrow was all he got. Dean got another pen out of the bag beside him.

"Okay, fine. Do whatever you want. Run from all your problems if it makes you happy. It won’t last forever." Castiel threw the pen right on Dean’s paper, causing him to look up. He opened his mouth but no words came out. They looked fiercely at each other. Ready to kill one another. Suddenly Dean’s expression turned into something else, not softer but different. A moment later he  looked away and stared back at his paper. Castiel looked at him a little longer before he started heading off back towards the field.

\---------

It was another sleepless night. His mind was wide awake next to a sleeping Meg. Their evening had been pretty tolerable. The amount of wine they drank had helped carrying them through the night without a fight, which was a rare occasion. The last times they had gone out had always ended with one of them storming off.

But still, he was restless. He needed to _move_. And so he left Meg behind, walked out the door and down the hallway, which was surprisingly difficult in his drunken state. His refusal to use his crutches only added to the problem. But he was fine without them. He’d be able to train again soon. Maybe he should go on a run tomorrow.

Castiel shuddered as cold air hit his skin. Why was he here? He… There was someone on the field. He could barely see his silhouette in the darkness that surrounded them but he knew it was Dean. There wasn’t a single person in his team motivated enough to train outside their schedule.

As he limped closer, Castiel could feel himself _hoping_  it would be Dean. When did that happen? His partly drunk self didn’t care, only wanted him to go faster.

"Dean?" He asked when they were only a couple meters apart. In hindsight this probably wasn’t the best idea. The guy dropped the football he had been holding and froze on the spot. Ever so slowly he turned around, as if Castiel was a predator and he was his prey.

"Dean!" Castiel said as he recognized Dean’s features in the dim moonlight. And maybe even a tiny smile spread out across his face.

"Cas?" His voice was hoarse. This must be what he sounded like really early in the morning. Castiel was intrigued to find out. And at the same time shocked about his own thoughts. When did that happen?

"You’re playing." Castiel grinned.

"You’re drunk."

"Is it that obvious?" Castiel groaned, sitting down near the football Dean dropped and took it.

"I’d be careful not to hurt your ego but I suppose I can’t do much harm to it anyway, considering it’s bigger than this field." Castiel stared at him. What had he just said?

"Yes, the answer is yes," Dean summarized and sat down in front of him.

"Oh," Castiel answered, quickly getting distracted by his thoughts. "Why are you here?"

"I’m playing football," Dean stated as if Castiel was the dumb one here.

"But why now?"

"Because there’s no one around." With a look at him Dean added, "Well until five minutes ago."

"I’d go but I don’t think I wanna move right now."

"You’re an idiot," Dean said.

"You’re…" His insults were really running low today, he’d probably used them all up during the last couple of days. "You’re… an assbutt."

Dean’s laughter broke out of him. His entire body joined him — head thrown back, hands clutching his stomach. And Castiel was oddly fascinated. He could feel a grin spreading out over his face.

He wished this night would never end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm super sorry this was so short! The weekend was a mess and didn't go as planned at all. I hope to get more writing done next week :) See you then


	11. The Remains of your Fear

_Dean's POV_

 

"Goodbye," Dean said, his hand already on the doorknob. He looked back at Ash over his shoulder.

"You sure there’s nothing I can do to convince you to stay? You know, I’ve heard there’re pretty hot dudes around here." Ash smiled at him. Dean chuckled.

"Nope, I’m leaving."

"Well then, see you at school man."

"Yeah, see you." Dean opened the door and waved at Ash before disappearing into the hallway. It was still relatively early in the morning, so the majority of the team was on the field or hurrying to get ready like Ash. Which meant Dean could vanish unnoticed.

He smiled as he saw his car on the parking lot. He’d be on the road in no time, finally able to enjoy the benefits of traveling and leave his worries behind. Somehow his mind travelled to Castiel. Yesterday he had almost enjoyed his company. Even though the alcohol hadn’t made him an easier person to talk to. Dean had begun to wonder if he liked their little fights more than he let himself know.

It was then that he noticed something was wrong. His car hung lower than usual. His eyes darted to the tires. He started sprinting, reaching the car in a matter of seconds. He mindlessly dropped his duffel bag on the ground and crouched beside his car. The tires were sliced. He traced a cut with his fingers. This hadn’t been done by an animal. Someone had deliberately teared his tires apart so he wouldn’t be able to leave. And there was only one person who was so invested in his business.

 

Dean stepped onto the field for the first time. But he didn’t pay attention to the grass beneath his feet or the curious glances the others were throwing at him. No, his focus was purely on Castiel at the left side of the field. Dean did his best not to run but even walking one could sense the anger radiating off of him, miles away. Cutting his tires! As if that’d make him change his mind. Hurting his goddamn car! Dean grunted and came to a stop in front of Castiel. He only got as far as raising an eyebrow before Dean’s fist connected to his jaw, sending him stumbling backwards, trying to catch himself.

"Fuck, Dean!" Castiel shouted, one hand on his jaw.

"Oh shut up! You cut my fucking tires!" He changed his tone to a threatening whisper. "Consider yourself lucky that you’re still alive. And now you’re gonna call some car service station and pay them to repair the car. As quickly as possible." Castiel opened his mouth to answer but Dean cut him off by stepping closer to him. "Now," he said with emphasize. Castiel nodded and got his phone out, dialing a number.

Dean let out a deep breath and turned away from him, anger still eating his insides. His gaze went towards the field and was met with twenty pairs of eyes staring right back at him. He wanted to yell at them to mind their own business but instead he kept his eyes locked to theirs. A quiet threat. They got the hint and one by one started training again. Dean kept watching them. The familiarity of their drills helped to calm him down, so when Castiel spoke to him again he didn’t want to bash his head in. "They’ll be here during the next hour and take your car with them. You’ll be able to pick it up sometime during the afternoon."

Dean scoffed. "I’m not leaving them alone with my car."

"Listen, it’s not-"

"Can someone please explain to me what happened?" Dean didn’t even need to turn around to know who that dominant voice belonged to. He did it anyway.

"Nothing, sir." He tried his best to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. But he didn’t quite succeed.

Coach Sanderson squinted. "Then would you mind explaining why you thought it necessary to hit him?" He pointed his thumb at Castiel.

"Just a little disagreement. He cut my tires, I hit him. We’re even."

The coach turned to Castiel, eyes wide with surprise. "You cut his tires?! You’re coming with me. Now."

"I didn’t -"

"Did I tell you to speak?" The coach grabbed his arm and dragged him towards the main building. Dean watched them leave. He didn’t like the thought of Castiel being alone with that douche. He fought back the urge to catch up with them and forced himself to turn his gaze away. Castiel had brought this upon himself, he needed to deal with the consequences.

\--

Dean was leaning against the trunk of the car, waiting for car service to show up. His anger had been replaced with worry. Although he was sure Castiel could fight this battle alone, sometimes a little assistance could help. Especially since Dean had nothing to lose, the coach couldn't take anything away from him.

He pushed his thoughts aside as he saw Anna walking towards him. He had seen her when they arrived but he hadn’t paid much attention then. Her red hair was now flowing past her shoulders but her skin was as light as ever, nearly reflecting the sun.

"Hey, Dean," Anna greeted him and took the spot beside him.

"Hey," he replied. He wasn’t sure what she was doing here since their last conversation had been ages ago.

"I just thought you should know that it wasn’t Castiel who sliced your tires."

"Oh really?"

"Stop being a douche and hear me out. I know Castiel. And yes, he’s ambitious and won’t stop until he gets what he wants, but he’s also an honest guy. He’d never force you to stay like that. And he definitely didn’t deserve to get kicked out of the team."

"Sanderson kicked him out?" Dean’s voice raised in disbelief.

"Yeah, said something about how it goes against his principles and then just… kicked him out." Anna shrugged.

Dean sighed. "I’ll talk to him once they’ve picked the car up." Anna nodded and turned her head to him.

After a while she said, "I knew you were alright." She stood up and walked away without another word. Dean watched her leave.

\---

The car service had come roughly 15 minutes later. Dean had signed the papers and noted down their address so he knew where to pick up his car later. Now he was knocking on Castiel’s door, anxiously wiping his palms on his pants. He had asked Ash for the roomnumber, who had given him a sad glance as if he knew exactly why he was asking.

The door opened just enough to reveal one side of Castiel’s face. "What do you want?"

"Um, talk." Dean put his hands in his pockets. A second later he took them out again and crossed his arms instead. Castiel studied him, eyes narrowed. Then he opened the door completely. Dean stepped over the threshold and stayed awkwardly in the middle of the room. Castiel didn’t make it any easier. His eyes were fixed on him after he had closed the door.

"So, um," Dean scratched his neck, "you didn’t cut my tires?" With a sigh Castiel finally moved and sat down on the bed. His gaze on his hands.

"Meg did. We went out yesterday and I started complaining about how you won’t even watch them play, and out of nowhere she said we should just slice your tires. And that’s what she did. I could’ve stopped her… but I didn’t."

"Meg cut them? Why didn’t you tell me?" Dean asked, voice raised.

"I tried to. But does it really matter if I stood beside her and watched her do it?"

Dean rubbed his face in thought. "It’s gotta be worth something."

"Is it to you?" Castiel looked up to him. His eyes were so full of regret, Dean couldn’t stand it.

"I… I don’t know. But I don’t want you to get kicked out of the team just because of me. I’ll talk to the coach."

"You’d do that?"

"Don’t look so surprised." In response, Castiel averted his gaze down again and whispered, "I don’t deserve this."

"Of course you don’t. Sanderson’s a dick but that’s nothing new. Let me see what I can do. He can’t kick you out for this."

"No, I meant… You don’t have to talk to him. I know how much you hate him."

"And he hates me just as much, so there’s no harm to be done. It’s worth a shot."

"Thank you." Castiel lifted his head and smiled softly.

Dean nodded and turned to leave but his mind drifted to motel bathroom where he had found Castiel sitting in pieces of a splintered mirror.

He looked back over his shoulder. "Will you… be alright?"

Castiel chuckled. "Yeah, don’t worry." Dean nodded but he wasn’t quite convinced.


	12. The Consequences of our Actions

_Castiel's POV_

 

Castiel stood at the side of the field, once again watching his teammates going through one drill after another. His eyelids were threatening to close again and he quickly took a sip of his energy drink. He loathed that stuff but after a sleepless night it was the only thing that got him through the day.And he hadn’t been able to sleep for a second yesterday, his mind awake because of the thoughts running rampant in his head.

This morning Dean had dropped by to tell him that he was back on the team. Castiel nearly hadn’t believed him, had it not been for the worn out look on his face. So he nodded and silently wondered how this guy had managed to convince the coach. And he hadn’t stopped wondering since. He drummed his pen on the clipboard in thought. His gaze was directed towards the field but he couldn’t focus on any of the moving shadows.

That was until he spotted someone coming in through the entrance directly opposite of him. Dean was wearing shorts and a tee shirt, not in the team’s colors but definitely meant for exercising. Castiel could only stare at him as he highfived the others before starting to run laps around the field.

"Dean!" Castiel yelled as he swished past him. Dean came slowly to a halt but didn’t turn around. With a sigh Castiel picked up his crutches — his ankle had gotten worse yesterday after Dean’s punch — and limped towards him. Dean must have heard him coming because he finally turned to look at him.

"You’re using your crutches again."

"Yeah, I stood up with the wrong foot this morning." The lie came as easy as breathing.

"Did you get it checked?" Worry was mixing into Dean’s voice.

"No, it’s fine. Why are you here? Your car is fixed, right?"

Dean laughed drily. "You finally getting what you wanted and now you’re complaining about it?"

"I’m not. I just… Why?"

"So you can stay on the team," Dean sighed. As Castiel furrowed his eyebrows at him he elaborated, "Deal is, you’re back on your old position as long as I stay in the team."

Castiel heard the words but he didn’t understand, he didn’t want to understand. "No," he whispered. This was all his fault. He had let Meg cut the tires and now he let Dean sacrifice this part of him only so Castiel could be back on the team. "You can’t do this. I …"

Dean cut him off, his expression sinister. "It’s too late now. But there’s something else you should probably know."

"Hey Dean! You gonna come or what?" Rick yelled and quickly caught up to them. Dean threw a last glance at Castiel, seemingly saying "Later."

And Castiel watched him go.

____

Dean was good. Definitely better than some of Castiel’s teammates but also definitely not worth the hassle to get him back on the team. Sure, Dean probably hadn’t trained in a long time but why bother then? If he wasn’t outstanding, why integrate him into the team at this state? Castiel couldn’t wrap his head around it. And when he looked down most of his notes were revolving around Dean. He quickly added some more about the others so he could at least pretend he hadn’t been focused on Dean the entire time.

A quick glance at his phone told him it was almost time for lunch. Since he was tired of watching these idiots he blowed the whistle twice, signalling that practice was over for now. Everyone went towards the locker rooms, leaving Castiel alone on the field. He packed his stuff into a bag, shouldered it and took his crutches to limp towards the dining hall. But he hadn’t even taken two steps before Meg blocked his view.

"Hey." She dragged the word out as if it had more than one syllable.

"Hey." Castiel’s answer was short.

"Let’s go eat lunch." The last thing Castiel wanted to do was spend an hour with her while silently picking at his food.

"I need to talk to the team, might take a while." She eyed him suspiciously then shrugged, pretending she didn’t care. But Castiel knew this rejection would linger between them for a while. And a part of him was glad it was that way.

"See you later then." She didn’t wait for his response and neither did she look back at him on her way to the dining hall. Castiel rolled his at her behavior and set off to follow her. But he immediately stopped as he remembered that he had told Meg he needed to talk to his teammates. Usually they did that before the next practice, so they knew what they should focus on, but they might as well do it now.

Castiel limped towards the changing room, which was luckily not far from where he stood. He pushed through the metal door with one arm, trying not to lose his balance. Suddenly the door opened effortlessly and Castiel lost his footing. He’d have landed on the ground had it not been for the hand that gripped his arm in one quick motion. And of course the hand belonged to no other than Dean, who looking apologetically at him.

"Sorry, I-"

"I expect all of you outside when you’re done here." Castiel said, meeting the gazes of his teammates. And he could still feel them burning into his back as he turned around to wait outside. Just like Deans grip on his arm, he was nearly certain it had left a fire scar.

_____

Their little meeting was as uneventful as ever. Castiel doubted anyone payed much attention when the thought of food was clogging their minds. He only mentioned half of the notes on his list before he let them go. There was no point in trying to tell them anything now.

As the other went off towards the dining hall Dean stayed behind. Dean cleared his throat and avoided Castiel’s gaze.

"Just say it." Castiel had played through everything Dean possibly could say during practice, he was prepared.

"When the coach and I made the deal I wanted one of the terms to be that no one can threaten your position and he was confused, saying there had never been someone in your place and that he had planned putting you back as soon as possible." Dean took a deep breath.

"Wait. So Lucifer was never a threat?" Castiel couldn’t believe it. He was analyzing their practices for nothing? He had pushed his physical limits for nothing? He had been freaking out, lying awake for literally nothing?

"Seems like it. I don’t know who told but sounds like they didn’t what they were talking about." Castiel didn’t even notice the caring look Dean sent his way, and started walking instead.

"Cas, where are you going?" Dean didn’t even need to run to catch up with him.

"To Meg."

Dean didn’t need further explanation, Castiel’s tone told him everything he needed to know. Meg was the liar. "And you’re just gonna storm into the dining hall? Confront her while the others are watching?"

Castiel stopped in his tracks. Dean was right, he needed to wait. If he was back on the team, he couldn’t cause a scene in front of his teammates. They didn’t need to be more scared of him than they already were. "Okay. Do you… wanna go eat?"

Dean seemed taken aback by his offer and honestly, Castiel was just as surprised. But he didn’t regret asking.

"Sure."

  
Lunch with Dean was … nice. Effortless. And maybe he wished — just a little — he was back on the road again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry that these chapters keep getting shorter and shorter but school just takes up a hell lot of my time these days :/ I'll try my best to make the next one longer!


	13. The Results of a Break Up

_Dean's POV_

 

Dean stared at the Biology book in front of him but the words just wouldn’t make sense. His mind was still on the field. The wind in his hair as he had run passed the defense line, the triumph of a goal. But with it came Sanderson’s words, reminding him oh too well of his position in the team.

A sharp knock on the door woke him from his trance. He stood up, one hand ruffling his hair while he griped the doorknob with the other.

"Cas?" Dean couldn’t hide the surprise in his voice. Everyone else had been more likely to knock at his door than Castiel.

"Is Ash here?"

"You wanted Ash?" Confusion mixed with his surprise.

Castiel frowned. "What would I want from Ash?"

"I don’t know." They stared at each other for a second before Castiel picked the conversation back up again.

"Is he here or not?"

"No, he’s out with some of the others."

"I, um, wanted to thank you for you know, getting me back on the team and everything." Dean’s eyes widened at Castiel’s honest words. A thank you from him seemed priceless, with nothing valuable enough to compete with its worth. "And I brought beer." Castiel held up a six pack, a smile tugging at his lips. Dean couldn’t help but answer with one of his own.

"Come on in." Dean stepped aside while Castiel walked past him into the room. He pointed towards the bed with his hand as he closed the door, an invitation. Castiel took it, sitting down on the edge. Dean moved into the spot beside him and picked up the beer where Castiel had put it on the ground. He held one bottle in front of Castiel, another offer. He took it. Dean took one more out for himself. After this day, a beer was exactly what he needed.

"Isn’t alcohol prohibited in the dorm?" Dean asked, a sly smile on his lips.

"Who cares." Castiel shrugged. "It’s not like he can kick me out anymore."

"You’ve got a point."

"Although I don’t really understand why he wanted you back so urgently. No offense, you’re a good player but you’re not extraordinary." Dean by now, knew better than to be offended by anything Castiel said. It was just the way he was.

"I’m gay."

"Yeah, you told me already," Castiel said slowly, confused.

"No, I mean he wanted me back because I’m gay. I’m representation. Apparently it’s no secret anymore that Sanderson’s an ass, so the principal put him under pressure. And now I’m there to smile at all the parents thinking about putting their kids into our school, reassuring them that ‘yes, this school is progressive and non-judgmental‘." His words were bitter. Castiel looked at him for a long moment, equal parts shocked and unbelieving.

"Is he for real? What are you supposed to do? Run around with a sign around your neck saying ‘I’m gay’?"

"Maybe." There was a long silence where both of them just sat, drinking. Castiel still in shock over the calculating behavior of their coach — _their_  coach. Whereas Dean was just immensely tired. He felt like he could sleep for days and it still wouldn’t restore his energy. Maybe because the problem wasn’t one that could be fixed by sleeping.

"I broke up with Meg," Castiel said into the silence.

"You did?" Dean turned to look at him.

"Yeah, she was furious. I wasn’t. It was never that kind of relationship, where… I think she was more mad that I was to end it rather than her." His fingertips toyed with the bottleneck. Dean mumbled an agreement but the truth was he didn’t understand what Castiel meant, not really. The couple relationships he had almost always ended because he had fallen out of love and not because the guy turned out to be a manipulating, calculating bitch.

"She’s not… I don’t hate her," Castiel explained.

"Are you serious? She played on you!"

"And I tried to play on you. It’s my fault if I didn’t realize Meg could do the same." Dean shook his head in response but didn’t say anything.

Castiel shrugged. "It was always a game with her." After a short pause he added, "I’m not sure who won." Dean couldn’t stand the look in his eyes. A broken mirror stared back at him. "It’s better this way," Castiel said. "Easier."

To distract him, Dean said, "I need to pay for the stay here." Immediately it felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He hadn’t told anyone about it, not even his brother. Sammy would just start to worry and tell their father, which probably wouldn’t end well either.

"But I thought we had a bed too much anyway because they only have double rooms here? Why would you need to pay for something that already is paid for?"

"Knowing Sanderson, it probably is and this is just his passive aggressive side giving me the middle finger."

"I’ll pay for it then." Castiel’s voice didn’t leave any room to argue but Dean did anyway.

"No. I’ll do it. You’ve already payed the bill for the car service station when it wasn’t your fault. You’re not paying for this, too." Dean took a sip from his bottle. The worries didn’t leave. If Sanderson wanted him to pay immediately, he would barely have enough money left for gas for the ride home. He could only hope that it was okay to pay afterwards.

"But it’s not right."

Dean merely shrugged. He had learned long ago that "right" wasn’t a word in Sanderson’s vocabulary.

Another silence spread out between them. Silences seemed to be their thing, unspoken words decorating the air. Dean wasn’t sure he liked it but neither did he want to do anything about it.

Castiel was the one who finally spoke up. "You wanna watch Grey’s Anatomy?"

"Really funny." Dean shot him a look. There was no TV in his room. Castiel got his phone out of his back-pocket, pressed a couple buttons on the screen and half a minute later Avery’s voice was filling the silence. The smile Castiel cast his way was almost shy. And it send Dean’s heart tumbling backwards at the pure joy of it. This was so unlike Castiel, he began to wonder if he might be dreaming.

They both moved farther back on the bed until their backs touched the wall. Castiel propped a leg up so he could balance the phone on it. And so they watched Grey’s Anatomy, perfectly content with the other’s presence and forgetting their worries together.

And maybe halfway through the second episode their shoulders touched. And maybe neither of them moved away. And maybe it distracted Dean so much he had to ask Castiel why exactly everyone was making such a fuss about Alex’s relationship. Castiel couldn’t understand how he had missed the biggest drama of the whole episode. But Dean just shrugged, memorizing the way his shoulder moved against Castiel’s.


	14. UPDATE

Yo, how are you all doing. Sorry I haven't updated this in ages. Exams were stressful and I've spend some time working on a different project but now drive will be my first priority. I plan on finishing this story as soon as possible. There's still a bit of the story left to tell and I think I wanna finish it completely before i upload the rest. This will approximately be (if everything goes well) in two weeks. Then I'll upload a chapter a day until everything is up. Hope to see you then! <3


	15. The Rest of your Energy

_Castiel's POV_

 

Castiel had woken up by the sound of his ringtone. His dad had been on the other end. By the time the call ended he had been ready to crawl right back into bed.

Castiel had continued his day by talking to Sanderson, trying to find a way to get Dean out of his deal. By the time Sanderson turned him down without allowing further opposition, he was certain he could sleep for ages.

Castiel had stood beside Sanderson and watched the others practice. His eyes had shut more than once. By the time they were released for lunch he knew if he was to lie down now, he’d never get back up.

"Everything alright?" Dean asked, casting a worried glance his way.

"Yeah, just tired," Castiel answered. He didn’t meet Dean’s eyes but left his gaze on his still half-full plate.

"You really need to stop being so picky about your food." Dean’s voice carried a mocking undertone but Castiel didn’t have the power to answer with anything but a lazy smile.

Dean held out another minute before he broke the silence again. "Okay, tell me what’s up." 

"It’s nothing, I told you." 

"Yeah and you’re a horrible liar."

"I’m not lying! I’m just fucking tired okay? Please don’t go on my nerves as well."

Dean held his hands up in defense. "I was only trying to help."

"Whatever." Castiel stood up, awkwardly trying to hold the tray while also walking with his crutches. 

"Leave it," Dean said. Castiel looked at him and put the tray down with a grunt. Should he clean it up. Castiel didn’t care.

As he left the dining area, he could still feel Dean’s worried gaze on him. He wanted to punch something.

 

Castiel found a bench outside, not too far from the field where he sat down. He could hear other people shouting in the distance but he didn’t care. He only needed a minute to rest. 

It was good. Sitting. Breathing. Closed eyes, darkness swallowing him. It was the best moment of the day. 

Someone sat down beside him. He didn’t need to open his eyes to know who it was. And so he didn’t. They both sat in silence. Castiel nearly drifting off to sleep but his mind wouldn’t let him rest. 

"You don’t have to be here, you know. You could quit," Dean said.

"Do you want me to?" Castiel asked, keeping his eyes closed.

"No, not if you don’t want it."

"Are you sure? I wouldn’t mind, considering you are just in this mess because of me in the first place."

"Do you need me to say yes?" 

The question hovered between them. Castiel didn’t know the answer. Did he need an excuse to leave the team? Was football not what he wanted? 

"Lunch’s almost over. Let’s go back to the field," Castiel said. And so they did.

 

Needless to say Castiel’s mind was on anything but football, during practice. Only two days left then they’d drive home again. Castiel wished they were over already. He wished he could just leave.

But he couldn’t. He had worked so hard to get here. Countless hours of football he would never get back if he quit. They should be worth something, even if it’s just a line on a paper.

Castiel thought about the talk he’d had with his father that morning. And he knew it was impossible to quit without dreadful consequences.

"Hey, got any plans for tonight?" Dean stood beside him. His hair was still wet, so Castiel assumed he had just come out of the changing room.

"Um, no." Castiel looked up at him.

"Good. Then you’re coming with me." Castiel kept looking at him. His facial expression unchanging. 

"Come on, idiot, we don’t have infinite time," Dean said. Castiel kept looking. Dean looked back. Castiel loved his eyes. He could look at those eyes for hours and never get tired. He wanted to get closer so he could see the dark green speckles in them that he knew were there. He wanted to get lost in them. Succumbing to an endless field on a summer afternoon.

"Where are we going?" Castiel asked, lifting himself of the bench. Dean’s smile almost seemed triumphant.

"Not telling you." They started walking.

"Maybe we should just go back to the dorms. We could watch Grey’s Anatomy."

"No, not tonight." 

"Wow, you’re willing to ditch Grey’s Anatomy? Never thought I’d live to see that."

"Haha, really funny, Cas." But he noticed the little smile laying on Dean’s lips and he couldn’t help to respond with one of his own. 

They made their way to the Impala. Castiel’s crutches once more blocking a good view out of his side window. But today his left seemed far more interesting anyway. 

Dean always seemed so at ease with driving. The couple lessons Castiel had, had always ended disastrous. He wasn’t made for stick-shift cars. But watching Dean drive was a completely different experience. He knew exactly the right moment to switch gears, release the clutch and accelerate. It seemed like a different form of art.

It wasn’t long until Dean pulled up on a half empty, gravel parking lot. Castiel looked around but there was nothing to see except the road and more cars. There was literally no one around. In no time, Castiel’s mind had started running through all kinds of different scenarios why Dean would bring him to a deserted place like this. 

"You coming or you want me to carry you, princess?" Dean asked, forcing Castiel out of his mind and out of the car.

"What happened to majesty?"

"Princess suits you better. It’s cuter." Dean winked at him across the car and Castiel nearly lost the grip on one of his crutches as he tried to walk. Stupid gravel.

"What do we even want here? There’s nothing around."

"Follow me." Dean set off toward the end of the parking lot. Castiel followed.

"Stop avoiding my questions. I’m already at disadvantage if you wanna kidnap me, never mind there’s no one around here."

"If I wanted to kidnap you, you’d be laying in the trunk of my car," Dean joked. Castiel rolled his eyes.

"Just answer my question, Dean."

"No." Castiel shot an angry glance at him and Dean continued, "If I had told you where we were going, it wouldn’t have kept your mind off whatever you’re worrying about." Castiel’s steps faltered for a moment. He really hadn’t been consumed by his thoughts since Dean had come up to him. Which he realized, had exactly been his intention.

Only then did he notice that Dean had been speaking in past tense. "Why-" Castiel cut himself off as he removed his gaze from Dean and instead looked ahead of him. At a giant beach. 

He was at a loss for words for a second, taken aback by the sheer beauty of it. The sun setting behind an endless ocean. Waves caressing the sand, almost completely covering the shore by now.

"Can we go down there?" Castiel asked and turned towards Dean, who had already been looking at him.

"Yeah, but your crutches…" 

"Don’t worry about it. I can handle it." 

Dean seemed doubtful but resumed walking nevertheless. There was a small, dusty path leading down to the beach and Castiel had to focus on where he put his crutches because small stones were laying everywhere, which wasn’t exactly ideal if you were walking on a path as steep as this one.

"Okay, which way you wanna go?" Dean asked as soon as they reached the beach.

"Give me a second." Castiel put his crotches aside, so he had his hands free to take his shoes off. Dean’s were already in his hands as if he had just snapped his fingers and the shoes had magically come off.

"Okay, ready. Let’s go that way." Castiel pointed to their left, hanging the tied shoes over his crutches. He started walking with the crutches in his hands, carrying them.

"Wait, when you said you can handle it, I didn’t think you meant just not using them. If you trip-"

"Don’t, it’s fine. I wouldn’t do it if I couldn’t handle it." 

"Okay," Dean said but his eyes told a different story. But his doubtful look vanished in a matter of seconds, replaced by another smirk. "I’ll catch you if you fall."

"Please, you couldn’t lift me if you tried."

"Wanna find out?" Dean stretched his arms out at him. In response, Castiel lightly hit them with his crutches, which only earned him a laugh from Dean.

After a little while, Dean went near the water, dipping his hands in it. Castiel remained at his spot and watched him. He didn’t have a clue what he was doing. Until Dean scooped up a handful of water and slowly run towards him.

"Dean, no! I swear if you-" Castiel couldn’t even finish his sentence before water hit his face and tee-shirt. Most of it had gone lost along the way but it was still enough to make his shirt cling to him uncomfortably in some places.

"You are the worst! I’m gonna get you back for this!" Castiel tried hitting him with his crutches again but Dean run off, well aware that Castiel couldn’t follow him. He groaned but he couldn’t help a smile as he heard Dean laughing in the distance.

"Catch me if you can!" Dean shouted back at him.

"Fuck you!" Castiel ignored the glances some adults shot his way. It was nine pm on a workday, if any children were around that was hardly his fault.

"Maybe I will!" Castiel rolled his eyes and started to catch up with Dean. He stood, waiting for him, in the middle of the beach.

Castiel couldn’t help but watch Dean as he approached him. His hands were stuffed in the pockets of his brown leather jacket. (By the looks of it, it wouldn’t surprise Castiel, if he had gotten it at some second hand shop.) The wind was brushing through his hair harshly, not that there was much too mess, it was still a sight to behold. Dean didn’t budge, never once taking his gaze off him and Castiel could feel them, feel this burn into his memory. Suddenly he didn’t want to walk anymore. He didn’t know what he was doing here with Dean.

No, he knew too well what he was doing here with Dean. Pretending.

Everything came crashing into him again, his breath was forced out his lungs. Castiel sat down, he knew if he didn’t his legs would give out underneath him. 

"Hey, breathe." He felt Dean’s hand on his shoulder but he seemed so far away. In his mind he was still standing in the distance and Castiel was unable to reach him. 

"Look at me," Dean put his hands on either side of his face and turned his head so Castiel was staring right at him, except not really.

"Now, _breathe_. In through your nose, out through your mouth." Castiel tried to focus but it was hard. It felt like fog was clouding his mind.

Dean audibly breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth a couple times, giving Castiel exactly the time he needed to adapt the motions. He was breathing.

Dean wiped Castiel’s cheek with his thumb. Castiel hadn’t even realized he had been crying. Why was he crying?

Dean pulled him closer until Castiel’s head was resting in the crook of his neck. He felt Dean’s arms clinging to him. The pressure released something inside of him and he closed his eyes, letting his body go limp. With the last energy he had, he wrapped his arms around Dean’s back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are highly appreciated!


	16. The Mysteries of Apple Pie

_ Dean's POV _

 

Dean didn’t drive them back to camp immediately. They stopped at a 24 hour diner on their way. Castiel didn’t even protest. 

"Now tell me what’s really going on," Dean demanded as soon as the waitress had disappeared with their orders. 

"It’s nothing." 

"How many times do I have to tell you not to lie to me?" Someone didn’t just have a meltdown in the middle of a beach over nothing. He couldn’t help Cas if he didn’t know what was going on. 

"You don’t understand." 

"Explain it then."

"I can’t quit. I just… I can’t." Castiel wrung his hands, his gaze clearly avoiding Dean’s.

"But you want to?" 

"I don’t know. I don’t know. It seemed so important to stay on the team but now… It was never a hobby for me. Just another hurdle to get into the final match. University. He did it out of  necessity not out of passion. And all this work, this worrying, I don’t know if it’s worth it anymore. Maybe I was supposed to get kicked out of the team." Castiel paused. "Do you believe in destiny?" 

Dean remained silent for a moment, still taken aback by Castiel’s sudden little ramble. He hadn’t expected an honest answer to his question. But he returned the favor. "No. Or well, I didn’t. But I’m not so sure anymore." Dean studied Cas. He nodded as if he understood exactly what Dean meant. Maybe he did.

The waitress brought their food and disappeared again. They ate in silence for a while, each of them lost in their own thoughts. 

"Why can’t you quit?" Dean finally asked. Castiel only shrugged and continued to eat. Dean took that as his answer and didn’t press further. But Castiel surprised him again.

"I just don’t want it to be for nothing, you know? Countless hours of training would be worthless." 

"Well, a hot body is never worthless." Dean smirked at him and took another bite of his burger. But as Castiel chuckled in response, Dean forgot to chew for a second, completely mesmerized by the sight in front of him. 

In a more serious tone he continued, "It’s also my father." Dean waited patiently as Castiel paused for a couple of seconds. "He can be pretty… dominant. He has an exact vision of how his kids have to be. He wouldn’t want me to leave the team. And if I did, I’d have to start something else instead."

"Why? Just tell him you don’t want to do anything." 

Castiel scoffed. "As if it was that easy. I’d probably never be allowed at home again. Never-mind that I could burry all my hopes of ever working at the company."

"You could start your own company." 

"Yeah, right. Because it’s that easy."

"What’s the alternative, Cas? Living like this for another year? Are you sure you can do this? Are you sure you can survive this?" Dean’s worried gaze met Castiel’s.

"Don’t be so dramatic. It’s just a year. It’ll be over before I’ve even got time to blink." Dean stayed silent because he could see the doubts in Castiel’s eyes. If he would push now, Castiel would just remain stubborn. So instead, he gave him time to think.

"You were right," Dean said when he couldn’t take the silence any longer. "I don’t wanna go to uni. It’s what they want me to do, but I think I’d much rather just work at my dad’s shop, as a mechanic. The family business, you know? Uni just doesn’t feel like the right thing. And you were right, I was afraid to stand up to my parents but not anymore. I talked to my dad this morning."

Castiel looked at him wide-eyed. "What did he say?"

"Okay."

"Okay?" 

"Yeah, he said, if that’s what I really want to do, then that’s okay." Dean shrugged, a tentative smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 

"Wow," Castiel murmured. But sadness crept into his gaze, growing like a shadow as the sun goes down.

Dean wanted to say "Fuck your dad. It’s your choice." but he knew how hard it was to stand up for oneself. And he hadn’t even been raised by authoritarian parents. So he stayed quiet.

"Did you leave the student council, too?" Castiel asked.

"No, I like the work actually. Hate to break it to you, but you were wrong. You are human after all." Castiel rolled his eyes and focused back on his fries, but Dean saw the little smile on his lips nevertheless. He felt himself mirroring it, a sad happiness spreading inside of him. In that moment, he admitted something to himself. He had a crush on Cas. Somehow along the way, he had managed to develop feelings for someone who didn’t even swing his way. Despite the fact that he was a complete asshole.

Or maybe not. Dean thought back to the first day he met Cas, how rude he had been and how much he had despised the thought of being stuck with him on the road. But now… Dean couldn’t wish for anything else.

"Let’s get a dessert," Castiel said, already scrutinizing the menu.

"Not for me." Dean held his hands up in a defensive gesture and pushed his plate away. Castiel’s eyes examined him for a while and Dean began to shift uncomfortably in his seat. 

"I’ll pay for it."

"It’s not about the price," Dean lied. He could barely afford his burger if he wanted to make it back home.

"You’re as bad at lying as I am."

"Maybe we just know each other too well." It was out before Dean had time to think about what he was saying. Really subtle, Winchester. But they had this kind of banter before. Wouldn’t his crush be more obvious if he suddenly acted differently? What if Cas got the hint? What if - Dean stopped himself. He was overthinking this. 

He had missed Castiel’s response, which most-likely had been another eye-roll. Now though, he raised his hand to call the waitress over. 

"We’d like two slices of apple pie, please," Castiel ordered.

"Sure, I’ll be right back." The waitress smiled and left them alone again.

"I don’t want-" Dean started but Castiel raised his hand and cut him off.

"Don’t even try." And Dean stayed quiet. 

"So your dad’s a mechanic?" Castiel asked.

"Yeah, he opened his own shop after he had a fight with his boss. It’s running pretty well by now. He has a little reputation among mechanics for fixing the unfixable."

Castiel laughed. "A real mechanic legend, then." 

"What exactly does your dad do?" 

Castiel shrugged. "He got his hands in everything that looks halfway promising. It’s mostly real estates, though. Boring stuff." Dean didn’t mention that "boring stuff" wasn’t exactly the phrase anyone should describe their future with. Cas had opened up more this evening than ever, he didn’t need to push his luck.

The waitress returned with the apple pie, taking their empty plates with her. They didn’t pick up on their conversation after she left. There weren’t any words left that night. And God, the apple pie didn’t need any. It was undoubtedly one of the best Dean had ever eaten, which was saying something.

 

The atmosphere on the ride back was anything but cheerful. So different from the first time he and Castiel had driven on this very parking lot. He had been extatic, looking forward to the days to come — only him and the road. The thought didn’t excite Dean as much as it once had. 

The car was standing silent only a couple meters from the entrance. Their evening was over. "Thanks," Castiel said.

"Please, I’ve driven your lazy ass all over the country, no need to thank me for a quick ride," Dean joked.

"That’s not what I - "

Dean cut him off. "I know." He couldn’t take sincerity from Cas now, otherwise he might do something _really_  stupid. And he couldn’t let himself ruin what was between them. He couldn’t.

Castiel studied him. "I don’t understand you."

"Hipster, remember?"

"That’s not what I - "

"I know." 

"Stop interrupting me!" 

"Make me," Dean smirked but he was only partly kidding. The shock in Castiel’s eyes revealed he had feared the same. But although it subsided for a chuckle once he saw Dean’s grin, Dean couldn’t get the shock in his eyes out of his head.

"I’m gonna go. Until I’ve made it up the stairs with these crutches it’s morning anyway." A joke about carrying him up the stairs popped into Dean’s mind but he didn’t — he couldn’t — voice it.

"Good night," he said simply. And tonight it was enough.

 

Dean stayed in the car after Castiel left. He wanted nothing more than to start the engine again and go right back to where he came from. Preferably - no, solely — with Castiel. But he wasn’t here. 

With a sigh Dean left the car. What had he gotten himself into? Being back on the team, crushing on a straight guy… He really must have lost his mind on the way here. 

And he didn’t want it back.


	17. The Ideas of a Desperate Mind

_ Castiel's POV _

 

"Hello Dad," Castiel said. After the fifth try his Dad had finally decided to pick up.

"Is everything alright?" His voice was rough through the speaker. But then, when wasn’t it?

"Yes."

"Why are you bothering me then? I don’t have time for your childish games." 

"Wait!" Castiel yelled, fearing he might hang up on him before he had any chance to tell him why he had called in the first place. He took a deep breath before slurring out his next words as if they were one continuous word instead of multiple ones. "I wanted to tell you that I’ve decided to quit football."

Silence. 

"You are not doing that." The force behind these was enough to make sick. He was nearly ready to agree to everything his dad said. Nearly.

"I already did." That was a lie. He hadn’t told the Coach anything about his decision yet. 

"Then get back on the team! You’re not screwing this up as well." 

"Too late, Dad." He made sure to say the last word as mockingly as possible.

He sighed angrily. "It’s because of this boy, isn’t it? The one who drove you? Are you fucking him? Never mind, I don’t give a shit as long as you keep it quiet." His father thought he was fucking Dean? And he didn’t care?

Castiel pushed his confusion aside. "How do you know about Dean?"

"I know about everything, son." His voice just as mocking as Castiel’s had been.

"Anna told you, didn’t she?" Who did she think she was? What was she getting out of telling his father random stuff like that? He answered his own question no second later — his sympathy. And when Castiel thought about it, he had probably sold her out often enough too. He had no right to judge her for it.

"It doesn’t matter who told me. You will go back on the team if you ever want to step a foot in this house again." His voice left no room for objections and yet…

"I won’t." Despite his best efforts, Castiel’s words were barely a whisper. 

"Oh, you will! I didn’t raise you to be a fucking failure! You are not throwing this away." He was full on shouting now. Castiel had to hold his phone several inches away from his ear, so he wouldn’t receive some permanent damage.

"Stop telling me what to do!" Castiel shouted back.

"Then stop behaving like an idiot. You know how important this is for your future!"

"I do. And I’ve decided not to care." 

"We will see about that. I have to go now but this conversation isn’t over!" His father hung up before Castiel could say anything else. A shaky breath escaped his mouth. Had he not been sitting already, he’d have collapsed onto the ground. This phone call had drained his energy even though it went just as expected. But Castiel knew his mistake. He had allowed himself to hope. After Dean’s story from last night and how understanding Dean’s father had been, he had thought that maybe, maybe his father would be as well. It had been a fool’s hope of course. 

But anger shoved his fatigue aside. Anger at himself for being so stupid to hope, anger at his father, anger at football, anger at everything.

He got up and retrieved his duffel bag from the ground. Without a second thought, he shoved his clothes inside it along with everything else he had spread out across the room. On top of it all came the 1000 dollar which he had gotten from the cash machine downstairs earlier. One of the first precautions his father would meet to ensure that Castiel would join the team again (or leave for that matter), would be to block his bank account. 1000 dollar should last him for quite a while if he was careful with his expenses. 1:0 for Castiel.

He zipped his bag up, shouldered it and grabbed his crutches at last. His room card was left on the table so Rick, his roommate, could take care of it because Castiel sure as hell wouldn’t talk to the coach now. One aggravating conversation was enough for the day.

Castiel’s legs led him down the hall and stopped him in front of an all too familiar room. He knew what he had to do. Before he fled from this place, there was one person he had to see.

Several seconds after Castiel knocked, the door opened and a surprised Dean was looking at him. "Cas, come in." He stepped aside and Castiel entered the small room.

"Why do you have your bag with you?" Dean asked.

"We’re leaving." He realized too late that Dean might not want to, and he hastily added, "I mean, I’m leaving. You don’t have to. I just felt like you should know…" Dean studied him for a moment.

"You talked to your dad." Castiel nodded. His eyes shifting to the ground. 

"Was about time! God, I was afraid you’d never come around to it." Dean chuckled. "Then what are we waiting for. Let’s get out of here!"

No words could describe how relieved Castiel felt. He was leaving. With Dean. No more football; and more road trips. He hadn’t known his chest could feel so light. His fatigue was washed away, replaced by excitement. 

"Let me just quickly pack up my stuff," Dean added. Castiel watched him running through the room and throwing various items in his bag. Dean would really go with him. And he didn’t even second-guess Castiel’s suggestion for a moment. He trusted him to know the extend of this decision and he was there to support him however stupid his ideas were. 

Suddenly Castiel had tears in his eyes. He quickly turned around to the window behind him, hoping Dean hadn’t noticed them. He could see the field from where he stood, and if he squinted a little he could even make out some figures running around. Was he really ready to leave this all behind? There would be no returning from this. If he left now, he left for good. 

A smile tugged on his lips. He’d leave for good. No more stupid football. 

He turned away from the window, the field, his team — to find Dean looking at him. An unreadable expression remained on Dean’s face for a second before being replaced by a genuine smile. "You ready?"

"Yes," Castiel answered and under his voice he whispered, "God, yes."

They went out of the room, through the hallway and past the reception onto the parking lot. The building was towering behind them but it held no power anymore. The car was whispering promises in front of them, it was in charge now. Maybe it always had been.

Once their luggage had been stored in the trunk and they had taken their seats, Dean asked, "Where do you want to go?" 

"I don’t care. Just away from here." Castiel watched the entrance in the rearview mirror, expecting someone to burst out of there at any second and yell at them for the stupid decision. But nobody came and they left the parking lot in the middle of the day, only a couple birds as witnesses.

 

And just like that they were back on the road again. They had been gone for far too long, if you asked Castiel. It was a good feeling; not knowing where the day would get you. A fan of possibilities opening in front of him. He was free.

At least for now.

"You didn’t tell the coach about our little getaway here, did you?" Dean asked. 

"No, I didn’t." He had been — he was — too eager to get out of Camp, out of California, to waste time with something so trivial. 

"Are you sure you wanna do this? We’ve only been driving for an hour, we could still turn around," Dean said.

"Yes."

"Just wanna make sure you really want this, because we could get in serious trouble for disappearing like this. Scratch that, we’re definitely gonna get in trouble for this. So, are you sure?" Dean shot a quick glance his way.

"Yes." After a pause Castiel added, "Unless you wanna go back. You don’t have to do this."

"No! That’s not it. But… It’s hard to come back from this, you know? This won’t only get us kicked out of the team for good but every teacher is gonna know about this, which ultimately will influence their image of us. It doesn’t matter so much for me because I’m gonna graduate soon but you…" Dean was right. They would get in serious trouble for this. But did Castiel care? Not so much. He had made his decision, he wouldn’t go back now.

"I can deal with it. I only have one year more than you, I’ll be fine." He had to be. After all he had only given up football, not his future.

"Okay, good." But Dean didn’t sound very convinced.

"Should we go eat somewhere? I’m kinda hungry," Castiel said.

"Yeah, we can do that. Try to find a place close by." Castiel nodded, unlocked his phone and opened a search engine. He skimmed through the suggestions in silence for a while.

"Not far away is a marketplace we could go to. You could get one of your beloved burgers and I think I’m gonna go for tacos. Maybe we could even pick up some groceries for on the go," Castiel said.

"Actually, I don’t think I’m that hungry. But you can get something. Just tell me which exit I need to take." 

Castiel studied Dean for a second. By now he knew how to interpret the furrowed eyebrows. He was lying. "Is this about the money again? Because I didn’t take 1000 dollar of my bankaccount to suffer from your whining the whole way."

Dean’s head shot towards him. "You took 1000 dollar of your bankaccount?! You _had_  1000 dollar on your bank-account?"

"Well, actually it was a bit more than that but I didn’t want to go overboard." 

"Are you crazy?" Dean looked back at the road but his voice didn’t lose any of its disbelief.

"No, I’m smart. My father is gonna block my card and how else are we gonna get through this trip? As fun as this is, I’m not sleeping in the car just because we can’t afford a motel." 

"I can’t let you-"

"Shut up, Winchester. That’s the exit you need to take there." Castiel pointed to the right.

 

"Someday I’m gonna pay this back to you," Dean said, gesturing at the food laying between them. They had stuck to Castiel’s plan and were now taking a break on the parking lot of the marketplace. 

"Sure," Castiel replied sarcastically. 

"I mean it." 

"I don’t doubt that." Castiel grabbed his taco and unwrapped the paper before looking up at Dean, a smirk on his face. "But who says I’m gonna accept it." The deadpan glance he got as response, evolved his smirk into a laugh. 

"You are." 

"Or you will do what?" Castiel took a bite of his taco. He was way more amused by this conversation than he should be. More than he would have been a week ago. How had he changed so much in a couple days? When had simple things last been this enjoyable? Why were they now?

"I’ll think of something." Dean send a last death glare his way before his patience broke and he grabbed his burger.

"Sure you will." 

A ringtone sounded from somewhere inside the car. Dean looked at Castiel, mouth still half open for what he had been about to say. 

"It’s not mine." Castiel held his hands up in defense. But the panic in Dean’s eyes didn’t pertain who’s phone it was, rather who was on the other end of it.

"Do you think they noticed already?"

"There’s only one way to find out."


	18. The Beginning of an Ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late, last days got busy all of a sudden... But thank you all for the support!! <3

_ Dean's POV _

 

"Dean?" Ash’s voice asked through the loud speaker. "Where are you?"

"Uh, hi Ash. I’m at um… the auto repair shop. The car had some trouble again." Dean’s heart was racing. Not because he was lying to one of his friends — desperate times called for desperate measures — but of the consequences their escape might have. He had hoped they’d have at least half of the day until the others would search for them. It seemed like he had been wrong.

And he may have just made everything worse by lying about his location.

"I see. I’ll tell coach that but brace yourself for a lecture when you get back. I think you seriously pissed him off." Shit. If he was already angry, how angry would he get once he realized Dean didn’t plan on coming back? 

Dean had meant what he had said to Castiel, he didn’t mind hurting his reputation, but Castiel’s career might actually take permanent damage.

"Oh shit. Well, I can’t do anything about this. Thanks for the heads up, though."

"Sure. Oh and, dude, Castiel doesn’t happen to be with you at this _car shop_?" The suggestive tone on the last words got its message across - Ash didn’t believe what Dean had told him. He threw a panicked look at Castiel, who had been silently listening to their conversation. Until now.

"Just go and tell coach we’ll be there soon." 

"Holy shit. You’re really with him. Are you two…?" Dean felt his face heat up at the question. He silently cursed Ash’s bluntness.

"I don’t know what you’re implying but my taco is getting cold. Goodbye Ash." Castiel hung up before Ash could get another word in. 

Dean didn’t know if he should be relieved that Castiel hadn’t understood the question. But did that mean the thought of them together was so absurd that it didn’t even came to his mind? _He’s straight!_ , Dean scolded himself. What did he expect? 

He pushed his thoughts back but his inner conflict hadn’t gone unnoticed.

"They can’t do anything. They don’t even know where we are," Castiel said, regarding him with a thoughtful gaze.

"It’s not that." Dean shook his head. He added, "We should turn our phones off. Once they realize we run away they could try locating us." 

"Yeah, probably a good idea. But then we can’t navigate."

"We can just read the signs on the highway."

"Oh yeah? So you know every city from here ‘til Kansas?" Castiel chuckled. He seemed to do that more often lately.

"Okay, fine. What’s your plan, smartass?"

"I walk into the shop over there and buy us a map." 

"You can read maps?" 

"Can’t be too difficult, can it?" And with that the decision was made. 

 

Reading the map proved to be easier than expected but only because once they were back on the Interstate, there really was just one way to go. So now, Castiel was sleeping next to him, the card on his lap. Every once in a while, Dean couldn’t help sneak a glance at him, or two. 

But even though he was back on the road now like he had wished, he couldn’t help but feel powerless. They had agreed to drive home but at their own pace. Basically a real road trip, as much as Castiel’s money would allow it. But what were they really doing? This would have to end sooner or later. They couldn’t escape forever. Castiel couldn’t escape forever. 

And when this was over, would Dean be the one left behind? Was he just a tool in this? 

He damned himself for thinking like this but the worries didn’t go away. Because no matter how you looked at it, Castiel didn’t feel the same way Dean did, which automatically meant Dean was the one who was screwed. He was the one who would get hurt. 

He sighed. Why did this have to be so complicated? Had he only said no when they had asked him to drive Castiel across the country. But watching Castiel out of the corner of his eye, he knew he didn’t really wish for it.

"What’s wrong?" Castiel asked drowsy. Dean’s head whipped to the side. 

"Nothing."

"You don’t look like nothing."

"I’m just tired. That’s all." 

Castiel seemed satisfied with that answer because he stated, "I’m gonna find us a motel," and got out his phone. 

"Ugh, right," he groaned in frustration as he realized he had turned it off. Dean chuckled at his reaction.

"Now you can prove your map reading skills." 

"Okay, give me a sec." Castiel pulled out a little book, which he had bought as well at the store. In it were local motels and restaurants among the "best and most interesting sights in and around Nevada". He soon found an area with several motels that fit into their budget and directed Dean in its direction.

They weren’t far from their destination as a yellow m became visible amongst the other buildings.

"Drive through McDonalds? So we can get something to eat before we check in?" Dean suggested. There were several other restaurants around but this seemed like the easiest choice. They already knew what was on the menu.

"Okay," Castiel answered and Dean drove onto the lane. 

"What do you want?" Dean asked as they waited behind another car. 

"A salad, please." After a moment of pause, Castiel added, "Maybe we should call someone. You know, let them know we’re alright." He didn’t look at Dean, instead his gaze was fixed on his hands that laid in his lap.

"You know we can’t." Was he having second thoughts now? Dean didn’t dare to ask but he had to. "Do you… Do you want to turn around?"

"No!" His head snapped up and in his eyes was so much conviction that Dean believed him.

"What is it then?" 

"I’ve never…" Castiel took a deep breath and then chuckled. "Okay, this is gonna sound incredibly lame but - I’ve never done this; running away." 

"Seriously?" Dean’s eyes widened in surprise. A car honked behind them and Castiel escaped an answer as Dean gave up their order. But as soon as he was done, he came back to it. "You never run away? Not even for an hour or so?"

Castiel scoffed. "Can you even call that running away?"

"So you didn’t?" 

"No, I didn’t," Castiel said, a defensive undertone creeping into his voice. "But don’t try to convince me that you have done anything similar to this." 

Dean shrugged. He had indeed run away once. But it had been summer, and he had been young and stupid. Now, he couldn’t even remember the reason behind it, only that he had rented a cheap motel room for a night and when he came back home the next day, his family was overcome with worry. He had never felt so bad. 

"Oh come on, really? I can’t believe it," Castiel muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

Their order was ready and Dean took the food, paying for all of it without Cas’ noticing. He seemed caught up in his own thoughts.

"Any special wishes for the motel?" Dean asked, trying to get Cas out of his head. What did it matter if he had never run away? They were doing it now, weren’t they?

"Just choose something that’s not too run-down." Castiel didn’t even bother to lift his gaze from the window and so Dean left him to his thoughts. 

 

"This… actually looks acceptable," Castiel said as they entered the motel room. Dean laughed. Everything looked similar to the other places they had stayed at; the washed-out sheets, the horrible lightning and the tiny TV. It even smelled like the same cheap cleaning soap.

"Or maybe you’re just getting used to these rooms."

"Oh God, no. That’s a horrible thought." The mock-shudder that run over Castiel’s back just made Dean laugh harder, and even Castiel couldn’t help a smile. "Let’s eat before it gets entirely cold."

"You’ll have to try harder to distract me, you ordered a salad, remember?" 

"Just shut up and eat." From where he sat, Castiel held the brown bag at him and Dean took it with a smile.

"What should we watch?" Dean asked provocatively, grabbing the remote control and sitting down on his bed.

"Is that even a question?" Castiel answered as he limped to his own bed with his salad in one hand. 

"Yes," he replied innocently.

"How about the news then." Castiel smiled at him as if he wanted to say "Two can play this game."

"You’re no fun," Dean said but he needed to chuckle nevertheless as he turned on Grey’s Anatomy.

"The news look funny today." Castiel’s voice was completely serious and Dean was tempted to throw one of his fries at him.

"Oh sorry, wrong channel." Dean switched to some news program and continued to eat as if missing Grey’s Anatomy totally didn’t bother him. 

It took a whole minute before Castiel finally gave in. "Okay, okay! Put Grey’s Anatomy back on." Instead of the winning smile that wanted to force itself upon Dean’s face, he remained a serious expression.

"I’m sorry I didn’t catch the ‘please’, could you repeat what you said?"

Another thirty seconds passed. " _Please_  put Grey’s Anatomy back on." Dean chuckled and decided not to torture Castiel or himself any longer, and switched back. He could have sworn he heard a muttered "Finally," from the other guy but he didn’t comment on it. His smile said enough.


End file.
